Clewis Emojis & Text

In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.

⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⣉⣉⣉⡒⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣭⣭⣉⠒⠄⠀⠀⠀⣈⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠁⠀⢀⣈⠁⠀⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠙⢿⣦⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠉⠉⠛⣿⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠘⡛⠀⠈⠉⠉⢹⣿⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⣾⡇⢹⣷⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⢻⣧⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣃⣒⣒⣀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣌⣒⣂⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⠁⠀⣠⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⣬⡅⠀⠀⣬⡅⠀⠀⣬⡍⠀⠀⠀⢀⣬⠁⠀⢀⣬⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⡭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣭⠀⠀⣠⡍⠀⠀⣠⣭⡍⠀⠀⠀⢀⣬⣭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢹⣿⠋⠉⠉⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⢀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢛⠃⠀⢠⣿⢹⣧⠀⠀⢠⡿⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣤⣭⣭⣥⣾⡟⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⣾⡇⢹⣷⡀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣇⣴⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⣸⡇⢸⣿⠀⢠⡿⠁⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠉⠉⠉⢀⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⢻⣧⢰⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠟⠁⠘⣿⣆⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⢸⣿⢀⣾⠃⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡏⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣍⣉⣉⣉⣑⠢⠀⠀⢀⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠉⠉⠉⠙⢿⣧⠀⠀⣼⡿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⢀⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣐⣒⣂⣠⣿⠇⠀⢀⣿⣇⣬⣭⣭⣭⡅⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⣠⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠉⠉⠻⣿⡉⠄⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⣏⣀⣁⣀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⠀⠀⣿⣇⣐⣓⣒⣒⣒⠂⠀⣼⡟⠉⠉⠉⠉⢿⣇⠀⠀⣾⣏⣐⣒⣒⣒⡂⠀⢸⣿⣀⣓⣒⣒⣒⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣭⣭⣍⡑⢄⠀⠀⣬⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡍⠀⣠⣭⣭⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⢠⣭⣭⣭⣭⣉⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡅⠀⣠⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠉⠉⠙⣿⣆⠁⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⢀⣿⠏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠉⠉⢉⣿⠏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⣸⣿⣠⣭⣭⣭⣭⠀⠀⢰⣿⣁⣒⣒⣀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣾⡟⠉⠙⢻⣯⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⣌⣓⣒⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣁⣒⣚⣛⣒⡒⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀

→ яємємвєя мє αη∂ вєαя ιη мιη∂, α ƒαιтнƒυℓ gιяℓ ιѕ нαя∂ тσ ƒιη∂. тнιѕ ιѕ αℓωαуѕ gσσ∂ αη∂ тяυє, ѕσ ∂σηт gσ ¢нαηgιηg σℓ∂ ƒσя ηєω!

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𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖. - 𝐶𝑙𝑒𝑜 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖

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https://perchance.org/ai-story-generator

h2o series two S02E01 Stormy Weather S02E02 Control S02E03 The One That Got Away S02E04 Fire and Ice S02E05 Hocus Pocus S02E06 Pressure Cooker S02E07 In Hot Water S02E08 Wrong Side of the Tracks S02E09 Riding for a Fall S02E10 Missed the Boat S02E11 In Over Our Heads S02E12 Fish Fever S02E13 Moonwalker S02E14 Get Off My Tail S02E15 Irresistable S02E16 Double Trouble S02E17 Moonstruck S02E18 The Heat is On S02E19 The Gracie Code (1/2) S02E20 The Gracie Code (2/2) S02E21 And Then There Were Four S02E22 Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble S02E23 Reckless S02E24 Three's Company S02E25 Sea Change S02E26 Unfathomable

James Potter was a peculiar boy with a head of unruly black hair and eyes so bright they could outshine the stars. He had a knack for turning the most mundane moments into grand adventures. Whether it was climbing the tallest tree in the schoolyard or racing his friends across the Quidditch pitch, his imagination knew no bounds. But even in the whirlwind of his escapades, there was one person who remained steadfastly out of reach: Lily Evans. Lily was unlike anyone James had ever met. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to her soft, porcelain skin, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief. She was as fierce as a lioness and as graceful as a swan. Her laugh was like a melody that could charm the sternest of hearts, and it was a sound that James longed to hear directed at him. However, she had a tendency to dismiss his efforts with a roll of her eyes and a smirk that suggested she saw right through his bravado. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was a solitary figure. He lurked in the shadows of the school corridors, his eyes darting like a snake's as he took in every detail. His black hair was always impeccably combed and his robes pristine, as if he had just stepped out of a dark wardrobe. Severus was a prodigy in the art of potions, his talents often overlooked due to his cold demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something about him that drew James in. Perhaps it was the hint of vulnerability that occasionally flickered across his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the most obscure magical herbs. The two boys moved in different circles, but they had one thing in common: a deep admiration for Lily. They watched her from afar, each imagining what it would be like to be the one to make her laugh genuinely or to capture her heart. But as the school year rolled on, their paths began to intertwine in ways they could never have anticipated. It was as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, throwing them together in situations that neither could escape. And as they found themselves drawn closer to Lily, a silent rivalry began to brew between them, a dance of longing glances and unspoken words. James, ever the charmer, tried to win Lily over with his flashy Quidditch moves and cheeky grins. But Lily, ever the enigma, remained unimpressed. In his frustration, James took to teasing Severus, using his popularity to make the other boy's life bad. He'd steal his books, trip him in the halls, and whisper snide comments. One rainy afternoon, as the school was dismissed for the day, James caught Severus crossing the crowded courtyard. He saw his chance and sneered, "Hey, Snapes, where's your broomstick?" His friends snickered, and Severus tensed, his eyes narrowing. Without waiting for a response, James conjured a water spray that drenched Severus' already soggy robes. The laughter grew louder as Severus stumbled away, the weight of his sodden clothes dragging him down. In the Great Hall, James watched as Severus sat alone at the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over a book. He whispered to his friends, "Look at the lonely little snake," and they all burst into laughter again. Severus glanced up, his gaze sharp and piercing, but James felt no remorse. In fact, he felt a strange thrill, as if he was in control of something he never had been before. The power of ridicule was potent, and he wielded it with the same ease he did his wand. Days turned into weeks, and James' pranks grew bolder. He'd jinx Severus' shoelaces to trip him up in the halls, replace his potion ingredients with foul-smelling dungbombs, and even cast a spell to make his robes shrink in the middle of class. Each time, Severus took the humiliation in silence, his eyes burning with a quiet anger that James found both fascinating and thrilling. It was a twisted game, but one James was determined to win. But the more James bullied, the more he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It wasn't just guilt; it was something else. He noticed the way Severus' hands trembled as he poured potions, the way his voice grew softer in the face of his tormentors. And every time Lily saw what was happening, she'd give James a look that made him feel smaller than a house elf. He knew he was losing her respect, but he couldn't stop. It was as if he was under a compulsion to push Severus away from her, to prove to himself that he was the one she truly desired. One day, James' antics reached a new low. He'd convinced a group of his friends to help him pull a prank so elaborate, it was sure to leave Severus humiliated beyond repair. They waited in the shadows of the deserted library, setting up a series of traps that would culminate in a grand finale of slime and laughter. But as Severus approached, his head buried in a dusty tome, James felt a strange tug at his heart. He watched as the other boy stepped onto the first trap, a levitating book that smacked him in the face. The laughter of his friends seemed to echo hollowly in the vast room. Severus stumbled back, dropping his book into the puddle of ink that had appeared under his feet. He looked up, his eyes meeting James' for a brief moment. In that instant, James saw something he hadn't noticed before: a deep sadness that mirrored his own. It was as if the layers of bravado and spite had been peeled away, revealing a soul just as lost and lonely as his. The laughter died in his throat, and for a moment, James felt a flicker of empathy. But the moment was fleeting. His friends were still snickering, and Lily was watching from across the room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. He knew he had to go through with it. The second trap was triggered, and a cascade of glittering confetti showered Severus, sticking to his damp robes like glittering scales. The Slytherin students looked on with a mix of amusement and contempt, and James felt his heart sink. He'd gone too far. As the last echo of laughter faded away, Severus slowly picked himself up, his eyes never leaving James. He wiped the ink from his face and took a step towards him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is this what you call fun, Potter?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. James took a step back, his bravado momentarily forgotten. He hadn't anticipated this. "It was just a joke, Snapes," James said weakly, his smile slipping. Severus took another step closer, his eyes blazing. "Is it a joke to you, to watch someone else's pain?" James's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for the right words, but his usual quips eluded him. The realization of what he'd done washed over him like a cold shower. He'd gone too far, and he couldn't take it back.

"You can totally sit with us," said a voice that seemed to shimmer with the promise of friendship. Cady Heron looked up from her lunch tray, blinking in surprise. The speaker was a girl with a smile so wide it could swallow her whole, her blonde hair glossy and her teeth as bright as the fluorescent lights above. The words hung in the air, tantalizing and slightly intimidating. This was Regina George, the queen bee of High School. Cady had heard the whispers, the stories that painted her as both an angel and a demon. She was the center of the school's social universe, and everyone else was just a planet orbiting around her. Cady felt a swell of excitement. She had been a fish out of water since moving from Africa to the suburbs of Chicago. The simple act of being acknowledged by the most popular girl in school was a beacon of hope in a sea of unfamiliar faces and cliques. She took a tentative step forward, her heart racing. "Thanks," Cady managed to murmur, setting her tray down at the table. The cafeteria buzzed with whispers as the group of pretty, popular girls made room for her. They were known as the Plastics, a name that Cady had learned from her newfound friend Janis Ian. These girls were the epitome of high school royalty, and now she was about to become one of them.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."

Plankton lay on the makeshift bed of crumpled newspaper, his body contorted into an uncomfortable knot. "I can't get to sleep, Eugene." Krabs sighed. "Why not?" "To hard," Plankton complained. Krabs looked over. "Maybe you need something to relax," he suggested. Plankton nodded, hopeful. "Like what?" Krabs considered for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "How about a bed time story?" "A what?" Plankton's voice was filled with skepticism. "You know, something to lull you to sleep." Plankton's expression softened. "Alright, Krabs, hit me with your best shot." Eugene cleared his throat and began his tale. "Once upon a time, in the vast expanse of the sea, there was a tiny plankton named Planky..." Plankton's eye widened for a moment, but the gentle rhythm of Krabs' voice soon began to work its magic. The crab's words painted a picture of a serene under water world, where the currents were soft whispers and the bioluminescent creatures danced a silent ballet. Plankton's eye grew heavier with each sentence, his body slowly unfurling from its tense state. "Planky," Eugene continued, "was a curious little fellow who loved nothing more than to drift through the sea, discovering its many secrets." His voice took on a soothing quality, each word carefully measured to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean outside their abode. "One night," Krabs went on, "as the moon cast its silver glow through the water, Planky stumbled upon a hidden lagoon. It was a place where the jelly fish swam in lazy circles, their soft bodies pulsing to an ancient lullaby that only the deep-sea creatures knew." Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, the image of the tranquil lagoon filling his mind. "In the center of this secret place," Krabs whispered, "was a giant clam, its shell open just enough to reveal a soft, inviting cushion of algae. Planky couldn't resist the urge to rest his tiny body upon it." Plankton's breathing grew deeper. He could almost feel the gentle sway of the clam's soft inner lining beneath him, the coolness of the water surrounding him, and the hypnotic pull of the moon's glow. Krabs noticed the change in his friend's demeanor and continued the story with renewed enthusiasm. "As Planky lay on the clam's cushion, the jellyfish grew closer, their ethereal lights creating a dazzling display of color that danced in time with the whispers of the water. They sang to him, their melodies echoing through the quiet night." The room grew quieter, save for the sound of the waves outside and Krabs' steady voice. Plankton's eye closed fully, his breathing syncing with the rhythm of the story. The crab went on, "Their song was one of peace and tranquility, of a world where worries were as fleeting as the bubbles that floated to the surface. Planky felt his troubles melt away, replaced by the warm embrace of the sea." Then, amidst the serene imagery, the first faint sound of a snore escaped Plankton. It was a sound so small and delicate that it could have easily been mistaken. Krabs smirked to himself. It's working. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "As the jellyfish serenaded him, Planky felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, until they could no longer stay open. The lagoon's secrets grew dimmer, the colors of the jellyfish fading into a soft, comforting darkness." The snores grew progressively, more regular. Krabs took a moment to appreciate his own cleverness before continuing the tale. "The sea creatures of the night, noticing Planky's peaceful slumber, decided to join him. They formed a living blanket of fish and algae, wrapping him in their gentle embrace, ensuring his sleep would be uninterrupted." Plankton's body grew slack, the tension in his muscles seeping away as he descended deeper into the realm of sleep. His snores grew more rhythmic. The light from the moon had been absorbed into his dreams, guiding him through a world of peace and contentment. Krabs watched his friend's sleeping form, noticing the way the shadows played across his tiny frame, Plankton's antennae twitching ever so slightly with every snore, mouth slightly open as he inhaled and then to let out the soft, rumbling sounds. The sight was peculiar, yet endearing in its own peculiar way. He had never seen Plankton so relaxed, so free. The crab felt a strange sense of accomplishment and allowed himself a brief moment of pride before remembering his own exhaustion. "Now, Sheldon," Eugene murmured, "Let your mind rest, and tomorrow we'll tackle the world anew."

ᴾᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵉʷᵉˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧‧‧ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʳᵉᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧

ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ’ᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳⁱˡʸ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿˢ ʷʰʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵒ‧ ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ? ᴰᵒ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒᵈᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ? ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ʷʳᵉⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵍˡⁱᵐᵖˢᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ⸴ “ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᔆʷᵉᵉᵗ ᴬⁿᵍᵉˡ”‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵒʳⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵘˢᵉ? ᵂᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃʳᵗⁱˢᵗ⸴ ᵃ ᵖᵒᵉᵗ? ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒʳⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵉᶜᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ ᵗᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴿᵉᵐⁿᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳʸᵉᵃʳ‧ ᴬ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈʳᵃʷˢ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱʳᵒⁿ‧ ᴹᵘᶜʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵃˢ‧ ᴿᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ⸴ ᵉⁿᵈˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵗᵃⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃʳᵇˡᵉ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵉˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˢᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ? ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ? ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿʰᵃᵇⁱᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ? ᴾʳᵒᶠᵉˢˢᵒʳ ᴰᵃᵛⁱᵉˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ʰᵉʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈˢ ˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇⁱᵇˡⁱᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ ⁽ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ⁾ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁿᵉᶜʳᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ “ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉᑫᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍʳᵒˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵐᵒʳᵇⁱᵈ ᵈᵉʳᵃⁿᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧” ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉʲᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵃⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ʳᵉˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᶜᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵍⁱˡᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉˡʸ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵇʸ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃʳʸ ᵗʳᵃᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍʰᵒᵘˡⁱˢʰ ᶠᵒˡᵏˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴵⁿ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵘᵃˡˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴮᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵃ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵉˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ‧ ᴰᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ˢⁱᵗ ᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴬˢᵏ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ʳᵘᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ‧ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ‧

ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ; ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ? ᴾᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ? ᴹᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ? ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ʳᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ ᴴᵉʳᵉ ˡⁱᵉˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ¹⁹ˣˣ⁻? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ? ᴵ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶠᵃⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ‧‧‧ ᵂᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵖᵃ ᵇᵒʳⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳ? ᴴᵒʷ ᵈⁱᵈ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ? ᵂᵃˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠⁱᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᶠᵘˡᶠⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ? ᵂᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ʷᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳˢᵉᵉⁿ? ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᴵ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳᵇʸ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ; ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧ ᴰʳʸ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ ᶜʳᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒʷ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵇʳᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉʷ; ᵒʰ⸴ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ²⁰ˣˣ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ; ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ! ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ‧‧‧ ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ‽ ᴬ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉᵈ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧‧‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ? ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃⁿʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ? ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ‧ ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵗⁱᶠⁱᶜⁱᵃˡ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵒ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ‧‧‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘˢʰ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᵃᶜʳᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴬ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳ‧

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

𝑰'𝒎 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅. 𝑰𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆. - 𝐸𝑚𝑚𝑎 𝐺𝑖𝑙𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑡

"Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream." — Euripides ❤ ♥ ꧁꧂

♥𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 ℒ𝓸𝓿𝓮 ♥•*¨*•.¸¸.•*¨*•♥ ❤ 𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 ❤ 𝐼𝓃 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎❤ 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖊

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡛⠛⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⢻⣿⡟⣛⣟⣿⡛⣿⣟⠻⢟⣛⠛⠿⣿⣿⢻⡟⢻⣟⡟⠛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⡟⣿⡛⣿⠟⣛⣻⣿⣿⣛⠛⣻⣿⣛⡛⠻⣻⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⠛⢛⠛⠛⠛⡛⠛⣛⠛⢻⣿⢛⢻⡟⡟⡛⠛⠛⡟⠛⠛⢛⣛⡟⢛⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠿⣛⡛⣛⣿⡿ ⡽⠒⡿⢬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣘⣏⢩⢿⡎⠀⣈⠱⡤⠛⣿⣡⣄⣴⠞⣃⡌⣼⣿⣧⣌⠑⡈⣹⣎⢿⣙⣶⡿⣿⣦⢿⣲⣩⣝⡾⠚⡇⢩⠀⠠⡙⠛⣦⡬⠚⠲⠖⣀⣭⠻⣿⣿⡗⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠻⡿⠟⠉⢀⠇⠀⠈⠀⠐⠐⢢⡈⢶⡿⠲⠈⠉⡡⢟⡸⣧⣆⣰⣦⢷⣺⠿⣤⣋⣡⡝⣦⢋⣩⢥⣉⢳⣿⣷⣿⡷⠚⢁⣈⠛⠏⢶⡳⣷⣿⣩⣿⢆⣻ ⠀⠸⡷⠨⣿⣿⠿⠻⡼⣭⣳⣏⡷⣞⣹⢋⡅⢤⡞⣣⠜⢇⢦⣸⡼⣏⣿⡷⣯⣿⢿⣱⡯⣝⣯⣏⢿⣇⠸⡌⡟⢩⢍⡡⠜⠤⣉⠱⠂⢘⣓⠚⠱⢿⡎⠢⣌⠘⢧⡃⢹⣛⡮⠯⠤⠄⠀⠄⠀⠄⠀⡀⠀⠠⢄⠘⠃⠴⢳⣠⡖⡄⣁⡸⣿⣾⢤⣟⣯⣷⣿⣭⡿⡻⣽⣻⢿⣳⣬⡥⢱⣮⣳⢟⣻⣭⡍⢠⢸⡟⠄⡉⣀⣶⠀⣁⠽⣿⣶⡯⣼⣭ ⢰⣷⢷⠀⡋⢋⠀⢖⡹⠎⠑⢻⡽⣮⠼⣿⢃⣾⣽⣏⠀⠆⢠⣼⡷⣿⣋⠻⢷⣯⣟⣳⣟⡾⣼⣻⣛⣼⣟⣡⣍⣦⠈⠜⢉⢁⣠⣴⣊⢶⡁⣔⡒⠌⠛⠦⣬⣓⣦⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠤⠶⠶⠶⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠈⠁⠀⠂⠢⢑⣮⡱⣎⣿⣞⣽⣶⣿⣹⣟⣻⣂⣵⡏⣸⠱⢻⣽⡷⢎⣿⡿⣯⣿⢾⣿⡥⢊⡷⣼⣌⣰⢏⡔⡌⢉⠛⠙⣃⠠⣀⠈ ⠘⡶⠻⣀⢁⠈⡝⡄⢛⠶⣂⠾⣱⣦⣿⣿⡿⢋⡿⣽⣻⢿⣿⣻⣿⡷⣿⡙⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣛⣿⡽⣏⣿⠶⣏⢛⡇⠐⣠⠈⡁⢀⠈⠉⠠⢉⠹⠂⣀⣴⠶⠞⠁⠀⠀⢠⠶⣞⠿⠌⠀⡄⠩⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⣹⣾⣿⣿⣿⣼⡟⣽⣿⣿⡇⣀⣤⣴⡟⠓⢟⠘⠉⠱⠏⠟⢻⣗⣻⣷⠹⠯⡝⣦⢀⢦⣿⣷⣬⡹⣷⡍⠦ ⠁⠀⠄⠉⠲⠀⡳⢰⡯⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⡟⣱⣯⣽⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣧⣹⣾⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⡏⣸⡟⣘⡿⠋⠛⠃⠀⢀⣀⣤⠐⢀⣸⠏⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡿⣟⣽⣿⠾⣛⠧⣿⣹⠿⣿⡗⣽⣯⣿⢷⣾⣷⡾⢶⡷⢠⣶⣾⡁⠉⡉⢿⣳⣏⢴⡟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣶ ⠀⠤⠂⡠⠀⠹⣧⢹⣼⣯⣟⣿⣹⣿⣽⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣾⡷⣙⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣣⣁⡾⢃⠞⠀⠀⣀⡜⢋⡙⣋⠰⠀⠚⠁⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣮⣽⡱⠘⠎⣠⣹⡓⡀⠨⢻⣯⣷⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣯⣤⣻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠋ ⣄⡶⠋⡑⠲⣇⢿⣾⣃⢾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡫⢾⡽⣾⣽⣿⣄⣩⣿⣾⡿⣏⣿⣼⡟⣩⠀⡤⡀⡀⣾⠇⣴⢞⣉⠁⣄⠊⠹⠁⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⢳⠞⣼⠇⠟⠃⠰⣦⣾⡾⠿⣿⡟⠉⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣍⣛⣉⡿⠟⢙ ⣿⣷⣧⣖⣶⣾⣾⣹⠻⡘⣼⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣿⣳⢯⡿⣘⣿⢿⣻⣏⡛⣷⢋⡙⡟⠡⠄⠛⠿⡿⠗⣻⠯⠊⣁⣄⠉⢻⠁⠀⠀⣈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠻⣿⣿⣧⡔⠰⡞⢿⣿⢍⣅⣢⣬⣹⣵⣤⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⢿⢹⡼⣿⣿⠟⢿⠿⠜⡀⠉⢹⡷⣤⣹ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣆⠵⣏⡝⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣯⡳⢾⣽⠟⣩⣭⣾⣭⢧⡇⣀⠰⠄⡾⢟⣱⠾⣡⠂⣉⡁⠀⡍⡖⣧⡄⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⡄⢁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢣⢦⠘⢶⣯⣼⣖⠻⡴⣿⣮⣿⣞⣧⣃⠿⢹⣦⣜⢩⣻⣴⠷⡌⢛⠄⣉⣿⣿⣲⣎⡤⢮⠱⡼⡴⣧⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣙⣿⣵⣞⡿⡿⣟⡿⢶⢣⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⢹⣿⣿⡳⣏⡟⢩⣷⠟⣱⣎⡱⢏⠀⡄⣘⠚⠀⢈⡷⢞⠁⣤⡚⠁⡀⢸⣶⣏⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠊⠤⠐⠣⡀⠀⡀⢀⠀⠈⡂⠀⢦⠑⢤⢴⠿⢿⣿⠿⠷⠟⠻⢿⣷⣻⡟⣿⡿⣿⣶⣷⢋⣿⣳⢿⠻⣯⣜⣿⡿⣷⣿⡿⣼⢿⣞⣿⣿⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠉⠐⠠⠞⢻⣦⣬⣑⡶⢿⢻⣙⡟⣞⣩⡗⣨⠹⣿⣟⣲⡿⡉⠰⠬⠙⠐⣸⢀⡇⢉⠀⢠⡾⢾⣶⣎⣧⡔⢠⣶⣿⡷⣯⠀⢸⠀⣄⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⠀⢢⣂⠘⣷⣀⢿⣦⣀⠈⠄⡀⠱⡂⠸⡆⠀⣼⡟⢭⣹⣳⣞⣷⣎⠻⣾⣭⡛⣽⢻⣍⣿⣏⣾⣳⡙⣯⣷⡟⣾⣷⡀⣀⢠⣱⡭⣎⠰⠄⣆⢠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⡳⣶⣶⢻⡍⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⣿⢻⣇⡾⡯⠟⢼⣛⣹⡗⠠⢊⡜⣽⡤⢹⣿⣶⡟⣿⣯⣟⢯⣿⡙⣆⣹⣏⣼⣇⠂⡼⠀⠘⣿⣧⠈⢧⢠⣶⣶⣾⣷⣂⠀⡐⢄⠂⡄⡘⡰⣹⣧⡘⣿⣮⠹⣿⣛⣦⡀⠘⣅⠀⢳⣞⣋⡘⢂⡟⣩⣛⣞⡹⣗⢰⢫⡿⠿⣿⣟⣾⣽⡍⣿⣷⠿⣯⢷⣬⣏⡱⣇⠶⡩⡗⣼⣶⠈⠙⠈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣿⣿⣟⡳⣝⣫⣷⢡⣱⠏⢠⠴⠊⢀⣴⣿⡳⣿⠀⣼⢿⣿⣿⣬⣿⣻⡿⡼⠑⠀⠋⢿⡏⣻⡀⢹⠀⢀⣚⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⣽⡟⣄⣐⡰⢌⠢⡑⠰⡡⢹⣿⢷⡹⢿⣷⣶⣭⣒⡇⢀⠘⢳⠠⣝⠳⣼⣿⡶⠷⡟⡛⠷⣿⣧⣶⣾⣳⡾⣟⣻⣿⣽⣿⣽⡳⣽⣾⣧⡜⠷⠿⣴⣳⢛⠿⠛⣷⡄⢀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⣏⠸⣁⠈⠁⡴⠓⣾⣿⣻⡜⠁⢚⣼⣀⣿⣿⡾⣿⣿⠟⣴⢘⣠⡾⣀⡿⠓⠺⡴⢾⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠸⣿⡿⢿⣶⣾⣶⣽⣯⣶⣭⠡⡑⠦⡹⣿⣿⣏⣝⡛⠿⣿⣷⣆⠊⠤⡇⢀⢻⣌⣯⡷⢄⡈⢫⠤⠉⠻⢿⠋⠙⠛⠋⠉⠙⢻⣷⣻⣷⣏⣽⣿⡞⣳⣦⣴⣯⡿⣋⣷⣿⣷⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣌⣻⣯⠂⢰⣠⣴⡿⢷⣿⣿⢧⣀⣰⡿⠃⣿⢹⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⡀⣾⣿⠙⡿⢤⡶⢿⠁⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠈⠛⠿⢿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠐⡡⢒⢡⠻⣿⣿⣷⣿⣖⠈⠙⣿⣾⠀⡱⠀⠆⠿⣽⢿⣮⢷⣢⣀⡭⢂⣬⣅⣀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣏⡿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⠴ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡟⣻⣷⣿⣹⣟⣁⠸⠟⠛⢉⣙⣇⣴⣾⠿⢉⡌⠛⣿⡿⣿⣿⡟⢛⠓⣵⠎⡑⡺⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡄⢲⠟⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢓⠌⣢⠱⣹⢿⣿⡿⣿⣷⠀⠈⣷⠁⠐⡀⠄⣠⣿⣾⣿⣾⣋⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣶⣬⣍⣷⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡹⢿⠿⡿⢄⡈⢾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⢯⣼⣿⢯⡾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠉⢡⣦⣵⣠⣟⣿⢿⢏⠾⢠⡍⡴⠋⢸⣿⣧⣿⣿⡦⢿⣿⡴⣡⡏⠀⣆⣿⠄⣶⣿⣿⣴⣲⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⠣⠜⢢⠚⣄⢣⠱⣛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⠘⡆⠄⠠⣔⡿⣟⣥⣽⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⡹⠄⠏⡱⣏⡀⢘⡼⠟⢩⠁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣽⣯⣷⢿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣾⠻⠿⠛⠋⣿⣦⣨⠒⣄⡴⢃⡘⣰⣿⠟⠛⠿⣰⣯⣡⣖⠙⣧⠠⣿⡏⠀⠻⣿⣻⠏⣛⠉⠀⠀⠀⡰⣈⢆⢣⡙⢬⠃⡕⢢⠌⣣⠗⣭⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⠀⡿⡐⢀⢢⡀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣴⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⣲⢘⠻⣆⠂⠑⠧⢿⡸⠙⣀⡄⠖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⢺⣿⣿⡏⠁⡀⣾⠎⠩⠙⠛⣷⣿⡧⢊⢐⡿⠇⡀⠲⠚⣭⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣀⡿⢁⣶⣖⣾⣷⣦⣤⠈⢂⠀⠰⡑⡌⢆⠣⡜⢢⡙⡔⢣⠜⣴⣿⣯⢲⠯⣞⣽⣿⢾⠀⠅⣈⠛⢿⣼⣟⣷⡿⣿⡿⢻⣽⣿⡿⠿⠋⢩⣁⣻⡏⢧⣸⣿⣿⣿⡹⣾⣷⣄⠰⡖⢈⠄⢲⠳⠀⢨ ⠁⣿⠛⠋⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⡜⠆⠙⢿⣶⣼⣿⢹⣼⣷⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⡄⠠⠀⢿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠞⢳⣬⣭⣬⣽⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠠⠉⠎⡕⡎⠱⠘⡌⢣⠚⣿⣶⣭⣷⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⡄⠘⠛⠛⠛⠋⣥⣴⠚⣵⣿⣿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⢧⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠻⣿⣦⡄⢨⡄⠻⡅⠂⠐ ⣿⣿⣶⣤⣦⣤⣴⠯⢺⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⡙⡀⠘⠠⢙⣟⠻⠿⡃⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⡄⢰⠿⢿⠛⠝⡄⠀⠘⢯⣭⣍⠋⠉⠛⠺⠋⠀⢠⠚⡴⣠⠫⢥⠓⡌⢆⣼⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⡿⠀⢛⡁⢀⣤⣤⡵⢶⡿⣿⡋⠁⠞⣿⠃⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡖⢿⣿⣷⣞⡙⢢⣠⢄⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠾⣹⢘⠃⣼⣿⣓⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡙⢧⣰⡇⠈⠀⠆⠀⠀⠼⡄⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠰⢣⡹⠰⣅⡛⣬⠓⣍⡺⣼⢽⣹⣿⣿⣿⣳⣾⠟⣡⢚⣗⢻⣾⢻⣿⣷⠶⣷⣌⣀⣠⡙⣼⣦⣤⡴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡦⣿⡿⣹⢩⡳⠈⢐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣽⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣚⡾⡿⣿⣿⣏⣾⣿⣻⢟⡹⡏⢿⣿⣧⠞⢿⣇⠏⠒⣦⣤⣰⡆⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠦⡑⢎⡥⢓⡍⢦⣙⢦⡛⣜⡳⣝⢮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣸⠣⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⢧⣤⣾⢫⢉⠛⢿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠵⣙⣿⣿⣷⠛ ⣶⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⡿⣧⠿⢛⣿⣿⣶⢰⡀⢿⣿⣭⡝⣿⣷⡖⣩⣿⣿⢙⡿⠀⣄⢀⣴⣶⡛⡔⢦⡙⢦⢎⡳⣜⢣⢞⣢⠽⣌⠳⡝⣮⢽⣿⣿⡿⢿⡙⢏⡗⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢱⣿⡆⠀⣻⡀⣿⢲⣿⣟⡿⠿⠟⠇⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣯⠇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣯⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣍⣹⣶⣉⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣧⣼⣧⣶⣂⡑⢎⢣⡙⣎⠮⡱⢎⡳⢎⠖⣣⠎⣝⣣⢏⡾⣿⣿⣻⣷⣎⠼⡱⣍⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠋⠹⣇⠀⢚⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠁⢀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡇⣈⣉⣽⣿⣾⣹⣷⣿⠿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣯⣿⢻⣿⣟⣟⣺⣿⣿⠀⢻⡿⢻⠈⢆⡱⢊⠖⣙⢎⡱⣋⡜⢢⠝⢦⣣⢟⡾⣿⣿⡝⣿⣿⡖⣹⠏⢁⢸⣿⣿⡾⢁⣠⣾⣿⢠⢿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣉⣄⠰⣍⡐⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡬⣁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣳⣟⣿⣿⣍⡈⢨⢌⠛⠿⣿⣷⣌⠑⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠃⡞⢻⣶⣿⡇⣿⠀⣇⠰⡩⡘⠥⢎⡱⢆⡹⢌⠺⣑⣎⣞⣳⢿⣿⡘⡏⠽⣿⡓⢚⢾⣾⣿⣿⡄⠘⣳⣿⡏⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⣲⣽⡇⠉⢉⠙⠛⢷⣮⣖⣷⣀⣤⣈⡠⠀⠉⠄⢈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣾⣿⡝⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⡻⣶⣿⡄⠘⢿⣿⣦⣦⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⢰⣇⡿⠁⣽⢳⣿⣄⢻⡤⠑⣌⠣⢎⠲⡡⢎⡌⠳⣌⠲⣬⢳⣿⣿⣧⣱⠒⡼⢁⢃⢾⣻⣿⣿⠇⣦⠿⠿⢃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣠⣆⡀⠀⡹⢦⠉⠻⢿⠿⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡏⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣥⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣈⠟⠁⢠⡟⣿⣸⣿⠘⣧⠑⠢⡑⢪⠑⣑⠢⡘⠱⡌⠳⡄⢧⢻⣿⣿⣿⠿⠲⠿⣆⣠⣽⣿⣿⣗⠠⣴⣤⡟⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⢃⣰⡶⠶⣤⣤⠰⡀⠏⣴⡾⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢠⣿⠿⠇⠀⢸⣿⣟⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣼⢸⠋⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢭⣿⡶⣿⣠⡿⣼⡏⠀⠙⣆⡑⠌⣂⠑⢢⠑⢌⠱⢌⠓⡘⠦⣙⡿⣿⣽⢫⠅⠒⠈⢿⣿⣹⣿⣿⡠⣽⠏⢠⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢓⣶⠶⠎⠋⢁⣤⡄⠘⢡⡄⣰⠴⠒⠞⠋⢉⣿⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡏⢀⢀⡿⠁⢀⠄⠀⡼⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣽⣴⢟⣫⣽⣯⣭⣿⣿⣿⣼⣻⣿⣿⡿⣿⡯⠔⠉⠉⠉⠽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠌⡀⠎⢠⠉⠤⠩⠌⡌⡁⢆⢩⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠘⣿⣯⢿⣿⣷⣼⣥⣿⣿⡿⡿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢯⡼⢣⡶⠾⠿⠟⠋⠚⠒⠴⢶⢃⣤⢸⡇⠀⣞⢻⠻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢧⣿⣤⡈⠻⠆⠁⠀⣼⠛⣿⢻⣿⣻⡞⣿⣿⣾⠟⣛⣿⣇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣾⡏⣿⡻⣿⡿⠓⠒⠒⢶⠶⢆⠤⣤⡀⢠⠀⠐⠀⠘⣧⠐⡈⠄⡈⠢⢉⠒⡠⠁⣤⠟⢡⢪⢝⡿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣹⣿⣻⣞⣿⣿⠏⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠶⠤⡿⣯⡀⢋⡀⠀⠈⣠⣶⡿⢋⠏⣀⣴⣿⡿⣽⡎⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡟⢻⣷⡿⢻⣦⣴⣿⠿⠟⣯⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣶⠿⡻⠏⠽⠟⢻⣿⠋⢉⠿⠻⢿⡝⣿⡏⠀⢆⣬⣷⡄⢱⡀⢳⠄⣙⡄⢃⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠂⠄⢁⢂⠡⣠⠟⠃⠜⠂⠌⠒⠈⢸⣽⣿⠻⡅⠈⠻⣻⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣆⠊⠙⣷⣾⣏⠵⡘⣼⣾⠋⠸⣿⣷⣿⠇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠀⣀⣤⠀⠠⣤⡄⣛⣶⡏⠸⠁⣤⣴⠛⠧⠦⣛⣭⣁⢻⡄⣧⢸⡄⠐⡿⠒⡄⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠌⡀⣠⠾⠁⠌⠂⠐⠈⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡷⠈⠋⠁⣙⠻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠈⢿⣿⣿⡷⢚⡿⢛⡴⠀⢿⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⠋⣰⣾⠷⠀⢀⡀⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⠉⣽⣇⢀⢘⡿⠛⢿⣶⣄⣀⢹⠿⠇⠀⣿⢸⣿⢰⡇⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠛⠉⠉⣽⣿⣣⣏⣴⣷⣦⣄⠤⠤⠙⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡈⠳⣽⡇⡎⠀⠊⢰⣶⣤⣷⡄⠚⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢘⣳⣿⢋⣼⢿⢢⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠖⠓⠀⢀⢰⣿⣷⣟⠉⠀⠀⠀⢣⡾⢃⠏⡇⠀⠀⠘⢄⠀⠀⢀⣈⠟⠳⠶⠶⠶⠋⠁⠀⠀⣠⣾⣟⣷⠿⣴⣿⣛⣁⣠⣤⣀⣀⠒⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣽⢿⡿⢧⠀⠰⣾⣿⣾⣿⡇⠐⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡭⢶⣿⣿⣿⡟⣹⣿⣾⣿⣿⣆⠘⢄⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⠋⣸⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⣼⣿⣅⣀⠒⠤⡈⢱⢋⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢏⣱⡵⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢯⣙⠻⢞⣛⣴⣿⡿⢉⡯⣥⠄⠙⠻⣦⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣩⣾⣷⢿⢸⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣴⡿⠿⢯⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠾⠟⠋⢩⣥⡴⢺⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣧⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣦⣌⡑⠋⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢚⣹⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⣟⣿⢻⡿⣟⣿⢫⣿⡧⠚⠒⠂⠀⣀⠀⠈⠳⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⣿⣿⣿⢸⠸⢰⡈⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡉⡇⠀⠀⣈⣁⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠈⠉⡖⢳⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⣼⢯⣗⡯⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣀⣤⣤⣶⢾⣻⣽⢾⡯⣟⡽⣞⣯⣽⢻⣞⡯⣿⡌⠒⠘⠋⠉⠛⢿⣷⣤⡈⠛⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠘⣿⢏⡜⠀⢸⣿⡟⠉⣤⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣹⣿⣖⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠟⠁⠄⢠⠼⢒⠒⢃⡀⡝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⣽⣫⢾⣭⢟⣷⣫⢿⡽⢠⣿⣿⣵⣻⣻⠃⠀⠀⡸⣹⣟⡾⢯⣟⣟⡾⣯⡽⣯⣽⣻⡼⣞⡿⣾⡽⣶⣻⣦⣤⣀⣐⠒⡠⢡⠙⣷⡠⠘⠷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⢼⣈⣶⠖⢀⣿⡇⢸⠇⠀⠀⠃ ⣭⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣤⣷⣾⣶⣾⣿⣿⣷⣷⣦⣶⣦⣤⣤⣼⣷⣽⣧⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⣿⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⣾⣯⣿⣶⣦⣾⣴⣿⣾⣽⣷⣾⣾⣷⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣷⣶⣷⣤⣤⣤⣴⣤⣤⣦⣶⣮⣾⣾⣷⣾⣦⣤⣼⣷⣿⣤⣿⣶⣴ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

☆¸.✿¸´´¯`•.¸¸.ღ¸ ♥ʚįɞ♥´´¯`•.¸¸.♥. (¯`v´¯) ....♥ Close to my Heart `*.¸.*.♥.✿´´¯`•.¸⁀°♡

ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵀᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵀᵒᵘʳⁱˢᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᶜʰ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵀʳᵃⁱˡ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᶠ‧ ᴷᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᴬ ⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧” ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵍᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ⸴ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ⸴ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ‘ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ’ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷⁱⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵘᵗᵘᵐⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ⸴ ˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ⸴ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵃᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ; ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴰᵃⁿ ᵂⁱˡˢᵒⁿ⠘ ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴬ ˡᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵃˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴬˡᵒʸˢⁱᵘˢ⸴ ᴱᵈʷⁱⁿᵃ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴺᵃᵗʰᵃⁿⁱᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ? ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ⠘ ᴰᵉᵃʳ ᴮʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴬᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵂⁱᶠᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴼᵘʳ ᴮᵃᵇʸ – ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⸴ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁵⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ ᵒʷᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧

/:.:, O \::/ o /|` _ ' sSSs /:| \\__\_SSSs/::| ,sSSs `--((S\SSSs/ ,SSSS_/ ,_ SS\\SSSs sS/`))\// sSS//SSs S//|_(\/ `Ss' sSSs, S\\|::\ _, \_SSSS, SS` \:| \\/((`\Ss \|__ ._ \/)_|\\Ss /:::\ \ `-.-""' ///SS \:`'` /_.-'`-==-' ' 'SSs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _♥__♥_____♥__♥___ Put This _♥_____♥_♥_____♥__ Heart _♥______♥______♥__ On Your __♥_____/______♥__ Page If ___♥____\_____♥___ You Had ____♥___/___♥_____ Your Heart ______♥_\_♥_______ Broken ________♥_________…………….

Ennis Chronicle, 17 October 1793 Limerick, 16th: Died at Askeaton, in the 120th year of his age, Dr. Ahern. Submitted by dja

⟡ pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

..CWWV.......VWWO .CWWWWWWWWWO CWWWWWWWWWWO CWWWWWWWWWWO .CWWWWWWWWWO ..'CWWWWWWWWO' ...'CWWWWWWWO' ....'CWWWWWWO' ......'CWWWWWO' ......;CWWWWWO. ........CWWWWWO .........CWWWWWO ..........CWWWWWO ............'CWWWWO' .................'CWVWO' .....................CVVVO. ....................CVVVVVO. ................CMAVVVVVVAMO. ............CMAAIMVVVVVMIAAMO. .........CMMAAIIAAVVVAAIIAAMMO. .......CMAAAIIAAAAZ.ZAAAAIIAAAMO. .....CMAAIIIIIAAZ..........ZAAIIIIIAAMO ....CAAIIIIIAZ....................ZAIIIIIAAO ..'CAIIIAZ..............................ZAIIIAO' .'CIIIZ.......................................ZIIIO' 'CIIZ..........................................ZIIO' 'CIZ...........................................ZIIO' 'CIZ...........................................ZIO' .'V...............................................V' ..Y'..............................................'Y We love mermaids!!*-*

Stuff I am not: ⚫ man ⚫ woman 🔘 ordinary girl Stuff I am: ✔️ From the deep blue underworld

𝐹𝑎𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ᥫ᭡.

~ ★.　　 ° 　¸. * ● ¸ .　　　　° ☾ ° 　¸. ● ¸ .　　★　° :.　 . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　.　¸ . ● ¸ 　　　★　　★☾ °★ . 　　　　.　 °☆ 　. ● ¸ .　　　★　° .　 • ○ ° ★　 .　 　　　　　　*　.　 ☾ ° 　¸. * ● ¸ 　　　　° ☾ °☆ 　. * ¸.　　　★

Never Forgotten ❤ ♥ ꧁꧂

🌊⋆.˚𓇼🧜🏻‍♀️⊹ ࣪ ˖

🌴⊹ ࣪🥥⋆.˚🌺

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓇ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝒹 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵˙˖° 🫧 ⋆｡˚

𓇼 🌊 🐚 🌴 🌊꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ🐳⋆｡˚

.🧜 ݁₊ ⊹🐚 . ݁˖ . ݁🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

₊˚.༄🌊₊˚.༄₊˚.༄🌊₊˚.༄

✨ ❄️: °•* *•° ❄️: ✨

⋆｡˚〰𓄼࿔ 🌊 🐚

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ _.,-'=_.-'-._ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ._.-' '-._ ~ _.-':_.-' '-._ ~ ~ _.-' '-._.'-._ ~ .-'.-,' '-. '-._ /\ /\ _.-' ~ '-. (o)(o) / \ / \ ._' ~ '-._ (/ /\ ( _.'-._,-' '-._ / \ ) _.-' (o o) ~ ) ( ) ( ~ .-' ( .' ))~(( ~ ) " ( " ( .-' ) '-._.,. ~ ) " (" ( '-._ / '-._ ~ ) " ( ( ___ '-._ ( '. ~ " " | | ~ .' ) '-._ ---._-|--|--|--|--/ _.-' / (o)(o) _.' ~ \ o o o o/ '-._ / ( ) '-._-'-. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ '-._ ( _.-' ~ ~ ~ '-. ) /\ _.-"._,' ~ _.' / /\ /\ '. ~ (o o) (o o) _.-'-._.-' / / \ \ '-._._ ))~(( ))~(( ~ _.-' / '-. ~ .-' .-'('-._ '-. ~ _.' _.-'-.-'~ ~ '. _.'-.-'._ .' .-'=_.'-' .-' ~ ~ _ _.-' _.-' ~ '.' _.-' '-._,.-'._.-' (o)(o) '_ ~ ~ .' \) '-._ ~ ~ '-.- = .-'. (o)(o) '=._ '._ ( ) '-. LGB ~ :_ _.-'.-' ~ ~ ~ "._,-'.-'._ .-`-._;'-._.='._ .-' ~ ~ '-_." ~ ~ '-._:'=~_.' ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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💙 Charlotte Watsford FaceBook Rp-Charlotte Watsford https://m.facebook.com/p/Rp-Charlotte-Watsford-100010160796693/?wtsid=rdr_0JTp8yzSiQkQHnX3N&_rdr Charlotte Watsford https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002214244272 Charlotte Watsford https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003201917048 Charlotte Watsford https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100004632035834 Brittany Byrnes https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005152664267 Charlotte Watsford https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005818148651 Charlotte Watsford (Mermaid) https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100007475553512

Feb 27th, 2015 cooking with your girlfriend justgirlythings

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gιяℓ:∂σ уσυ ℓιкє αηуσηє؟ вσу:уєѕ. ι ℓσνє нєя мσяє тнαη тнє αιя ι вяєαтн gιяℓ: ωєℓℓ ι'м αℓωαуѕ нєяє ƒσя уσυ вσу: ι кησω gιяℓ: ωнαт'ѕ ωяσηg؟ вσу: ι ℓιкє нєя ѕσ мυ¢н gιяℓ: тαℓк тσ нєя вσу: ι ∂ση'т кησω, ѕнє ωσηт єνєη ℓιкє мє gιяℓ: ∂ση'т ѕαу тнαт уσυ'яє αмαzιηg вσу: ι ¢αη נυѕт тєℓℓ. gιяℓ: ωєℓℓ נυѕт тєℓℓ нєя вσу: ωнαт ѕнσυℓ∂ ι ѕαу؟ gιяℓ: тєℓℓ нєя нσω мυ¢н уσυ ℓιкє нєя вσу: ι тєℓℓ нєя ∂αιℓу gιяℓ: ωнαт ∂σ уσυ мєαη؟ вσу: ι'м αℓωαуѕ ωιтн нєя. ι ℓσνє нєя gιяℓ: ι кησω нσω уσυ ƒєєℓ. ι нανє тнє ѕαмє ρяσвℓєм вυт нє'ℓℓ ηєνєя ℓιкє мє вσу: ωαιт ωнσ ∂σ уσυ ℓιкє؟ gιяℓ: σн ѕσмє вσу вσу: σн...нσω ωιℓℓ ι кησω ѕнє ℓιкєѕ мє؟ gιяℓ:ι кησω ѕнє ∂σєѕ вσу: нσω ∂σ уσυ кησω؟ gιяℓ: вє¢αυѕє, ωнσ ωσυℓ∂η'т ℓιкє уσυ؟ вσу: уσυ! gιяℓ: уσυ'яє ωяσηg, ι ℓσνє уσυ вσу: ι ℓσνє уσυ тσσ gιяℓ: ѕσ αяє уσυ gσιηg тσ тαℓк тσ нєя؟ вσу: ι נυѕт ∂ι∂ ~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~● gιяℓ: ∂σ ι єνєя ¢яσѕѕ уσυя мιη∂ вσу: ησ gιяℓ: ∂σ уσυ ℓιкє мє؟ вσу: ησт яєαℓℓу gιяℓ: ∂σ уσυ ωαηт мє؟ вσу: ησ gιяℓ: ωσυℓ∂ уσυ ¢яу ιƒ ι ℓєƒт؟ вσу: ησ gιяℓ: ωσυℓ∂ уσυ ℓινє ƒσя мє؟ вσу: ησ gιяℓ: ωσυℓ∂ уσυ ∂σ αηутнιηg ƒσя мє؟ вσу: ησ gιяℓ: ¢нσσѕє--мє σя уσυя ℓιƒє вσу: му ℓιƒє тнє gιяℓ ιη ѕнσ¢к αη∂ ραιη αη∂ тнє вσу яυηѕ αƒтєя нєя ѕαуѕ... вσу: тнє яєαѕση уσυ ηєνєя ¢яσѕѕ му мιη∂ ιѕ вє¢αυѕє уσυ'яє αℓωαуѕ ση му мιη∂. тнє яєαѕση ωну ι ∂ση'т ℓιкє уσυ ιѕ вє¢αυѕє ι ℓσνє уσυ. тнє яєαѕση ι ∂ση'т ωαηт уσυ ιѕ вє¢αυѕє ι ηєє∂ уσυ. тнє яєαѕση ι ωσυℓ∂η'т ¢яу ιƒ уσυ ℓєƒт вє¢αυѕє ι ωσυℓ∂ ∂ιє ιƒ уσυ ℓєƒт. тнє яєαѕση ι ωσυℓ∂η'т ℓινє ƒσя уσυ ιѕ вє¢αυѕє ι ωσυℓ∂ ∂ιє ƒσя уσυ. тнє яєαѕση ι'м ησт ωιℓℓιηg тσ ∂σ αηутнιηg ƒσя уσυ вє¢αυѕє ι ∂σ єνєяутнιηg ƒσя уσυ. тнє яєαѕση ι ¢нσѕє му ℓιƒє ιѕ вє¢αυѕє уσυ αяє му ℓιƒє

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❤ ❤ 🅴🆃🅴🆁🅽🅰🅻 🅻🅾🆅🅸🅽🅶 🅼🅴🅼🅾🆁🆈 ❤ ♥ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ α♡ѕнαρє∂♡нσℓє♡ιη♡му♡нєαят ﮩﮩـ٨ﮩﮩـ٨ﮩ♥ (✿◠‿◠)

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NEWEST GUIDELINES ON CANCERS SCREENING OF THE WOMB COMPARED TO PREVIOUS RECOMMENDATIONS SUGGESTED for AFAB people aged ~25-65 yrs. old 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Ages <25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Age 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer

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Sharlota Watsford شارلوت واتسفورد Շարլոտա Ուոթսֆորդ Шарлотта Уотсфорд Шарлот Уотсфорд Carlota Watsford שארלוט ווטספורד چارلۆت واتسفۆرد Šarlote Vatsforda Charlotte Watsfordas Шарлот Вотсфорд Шарлотт Ватсфорд शार्लोट वाट्सफोर्ड Шарлотка Уотсфорд Salote Watsford Љарлот Wатсфорд Шарлотта Ватсфорд ሻርሎት ዋትስፎርድ Sālote Watsford

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Her strongest memory was of the smell of rain on hot pavement. It was a scent that didn't just fill her nose but seemed to soak into her skin, bringing with it a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a very long time. Bluey Heeler was a creature of the outdoors, a dog with a heart that pounded in sync with the vast wilderness she called home. Her fur, a blend of blue and gray, blended seamlessly with the shadows of the eucalyptus trees that stretched tall beside her family's modest house. Rainy days meant puddles to splash in and the rich scent of earth coming alive around her. But it had been a long time since she'd felt the cool kiss of rainwater on her snout. Now, Bluey was in the city, surrounded by the concrete jungle, a stark contrast to the boundless plains she'd once known. The smells here were overwhelming, a mishmash of exhaust fumes, fast food, and a million different creatures packed into a space so tight it made her feel claustrophobic. The noises were constant, a never-ending din that made her flinch and whine in the quiet moments of the night. Yet, amidst the chaos, she had found a purpose, a reason to push through the fear and confusion. Her new friend, named Mia, had taken her in, offering her a chance at a new life filled with love and companionship. Mia was as vibrant as the flowers she tended in the small patch of earth outside their apartment. Despite the stark difference in their sizes, they shared a bond that transcended the confines of the urban sprawl. Each day, Mia would take her on adventures through the parks, allowing her to feel the grass under her paws and chase the occasional squirrel up a tree. It wasn't the same as the open ranges she'd left behind, but it was a taste of freedom she hadn't known in weeks. One evening, as the two sat on the windowsill watching the rain dance in the streetlights, a distant howl echoed through the concrete valleys. It was faint, almost lost in the symphony of city sounds, but to Bluey, it was as clear as if it had come from right beside her. Her ears perked up, and she let out a soft whine, longing for the days when she could have joined the chorus. Mia looked at her, concern etched on her features. "What is it, girl?" she asked, her tail thumping against the sill as she tried to convey the ache in her soul. The howl grew stronger, more insistent, and suddenly, Bluey realized it wasn't just any howl. It was her sister, Bingo. The same melody that had serenaded their nights back home, now calling to her from across the miles. Bingo's howl was a beacon, a thread of their shared past that had somehow found its way to her here in the city. Mia's eyes widened as she saw the recognition in Bluey's eyes. "Is that...?" she began, but the question was unnecessary. Bingo came in. Without a second thought, Bluey leaped. She didn't care about the water soaking her fur or the cold seeping into her bones. All that mattered was finding Bingo. The city streets were a labyrinth of wet reflections, the neon lights playing tricks on her eyes as she sprinted through the rain. The scent grew stronger with every bound, her nose leading her through alleys and across busy roads, dodging puddles that mirrored the chaos above. Mia, soaked and panting, struggled to keep up. Then, a shadow moving swiftly in the rain. Bluey's heart leaped. That was Bingo! She picked up the pace, her paws barely touching the ground. The howl grew closer, turning into a series of excited barks as the two sisters rounded a corner and locked eyes. Bingo's tail wagged a mile a minute, and she barrels towards Bluey, knocking her over in a joyous reunion of wet dog and muddy paws. They rolled together, the sound of their laughter piercing the rain-soaked silence. Mia skidded to a stop, panting and smiling through the downpour. She watched as the two sisters played, their tails creating a whirlwind of joy in the dim streetlight. The sight was enough to warm her to the core, making the dampness of her fur coat feel like a small price to pay for this moment. "Bingo," she called out, her voice a mix of happiness and relief. "You found her, Bluey!"

He felt his eyelid grow heavy to anesthesia. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, you're gonna start feeling sleepy," the doctor's voice echoed. The world around him grew fuzzy, sounds becoming muffled and indistinct. His head lolled, body slack. The nurse's grew blurry, darkness before not even nothingness. Karen, his wife, sat by him. Finally, the doctor stepped back, turned and gave her a thumbs up. The nurse began to clean Plankton's face, wiping away the excess saliva and bleeding with gentle touch. Karen follows as they wheel him out. His bed was pushed into a small cubicle, his breathing slow and even. In stumbled SpongeBob. Karen smiles. "The surgery went well, he's just sleeping it off," she assured. SpongeBob's taking in the beeping monitors. "What's all this for?" he asks, curiosity piqued. "To make sure he's ok while he's asleep," Karen explained. "The doctor said he'd be out for a little while." The yellow sponge nodded, his gaze lingering on the small wads of gauze peeking out from the sides of Plankton's mouth. "What's that?" he asks. "It's to help absorb.." Sponge Bob took in the sight of Plankton, who had begun to drool slightly onto the pillow beneath his head. The saliva pooled. "Oh no, Plankton. You're drooling!" Sponge Bob watched as drool continued to form like a thin string connecting Plankton's mouth to the pillow. Karen chuckled softly. "It's normal, Sponge Bob. He won't feel it as he's asleep." SpongeBob nodded, but curiosity remained. "Can I... I mean, should I... wipe it up?" he asks. Karen laughs. "It's ok, they'd take care of it. Just let him rest." "I promise to be super gentle" Karen nodded, a small smile playing. "Alright. Just be careful." His movements were deliberate, eyes never leaving Plankton's mouth as he approached. The drool strand grew longer, a tiny bridge between his friend and the pillow. The droplet fell away, landing on the pillow with a soft splat. Plankton stirred slightly but didn't wake. "It's fine. He's going to be a bit out of it when he wakes up anyway. Why don't you try talking to him while we wait for him to wake? It might help him feel more at ease." "Hey it's Sponge Bob. You're ok, just having a little nap. No Krabby Patties to steal right now," he added with a chuckle. Plankton's eye began to flutter, a sure sign that he was slowly coming back to consciousness. His body twitched, the anesthesia wearing off. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Karen leaned closer, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his. "Honey, it's me," she whispered. "You're ok." Plankton's unfocused and glazed. "Where... what... happened?" he mumbled. "You had wisdom teeth removed. You're in recovery," she said, voice soothing. Plankton blinked. "Wis...wis...what?" "You had a little...uh...dental appointment," SpongeBob said. "Teeth...gone?" he mumbled, still groggy. "You're fine," she assured. "I feel... funny," he giggled, voice silly. "Just relax, Plankton," Karen said. "But...but I wanna...see!" Plankton protested, arms flailing weakly. "Plankton, you need rest." "But I'm not tired!" he exclaimed, as his head lolled back onto the pillow. "I... I want to dance," he said, voice still slurred, which only resulted in more drool escaping. "First, you gotta get better," she said, voice earnest. Plankton's giggles grew, his eye half-closed. "But I'm already the best... at... at... at... " he mumbled, trailing off. "It's anesthesia," the nurse chimed in. "It can make people say some funny things. You're just feeling a bit loopy, Plankton. You'll be back to your usual self soon." Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye struggling to stay open. "But... but... I'm not tired," he protested weakly, his voice a mere whisper. His eyelid began to droop once more. Sponge Bob leaned in. "You just had surgery, Plankton. You need to rest," he said firmly. Plankton's giggles turned into snores, his tiny body giving in despite his protests. "He's going to be out for a while," the nurse said. "Anesthesia can take time to wear off completely." Karen nodded, watching his chest rise and fall with each snore. Sponge Bob reached out and lightly patted Plankton's arm. Plankton's snores grew quieter and stirred, eye cracking. "Wha... SpongeBob?" he mumbled, groggy. Sponge Bob's heart swelled at the sight of his confused expression. "Just keeping you company as you wake." Plankton's eye rolled to the side. "Wha... what are you doing?" he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to lift his hand to his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the bed with a limp thud. "Drool? I...I can't stop," he mumbled, his drool pooling around the fresh gauze. Sponge Bob chuckles. "It's ok, Plankton," he said. Plankton's eye narrows. "Not funny," he mumbled, words barely intelligible. Yet as he said it, another string of drool began to form, stretching from his mouth to the pillow. Sponge Bob's chuckles grew. "I know, I know. It's just... you're so... so... " he couldn't find words, laughter took over. Plankton's unable to control his drool. "I'm so...so...so..." he tried to form a coherent thought. "So what, Plankton?" "I'm...I'm not...not...drooling," he managed to say, words barely coherent. But even as he spoke, a new droplet formed at the corner of his mouth. "You sure?" "St...stop," Plankton managed to mumble, his mouth open and drooling again. "It's...it's...embarrassing." Sponge Bob smiled. "I know, you're ok. The surgery went well," he said. "Alright, we can get him ready to go home now," says nurse. They carefully lift Plankton from the bed, body still limp from the anesthesia. "You ok?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, head lolling to one side. He struggled to keep his eye open, but the medication was too strong. Plankton's eye drooped shut once more, his snores echoing through the hall. "Whoa, there he goes again…" "He's still pretty out of it," she said. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth hanging open. "Whoa, Plankton, wake up," Sponge Bob said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Mmph," Plankton mumbled, his eye cracking open. "Where...are we?" "Almost to the car," Karen said. "Just a bit longer." But Plankton's eyelid grew heavier. The nurse disappeared through the doors, leaving Karen and Sponge Bob to maneuver Plankton into a more upright position. His head kept flopping to one side, his snores grew louder. "Come on, Plankton, stay with us," Karen urged. Sponge Bob leaned close. "You ok?" he asked, patting Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's head lolled to the side, eye half- open. "Mmph...tired," he mumbled. Karen managed to get him in, his body collapsing into the seat like a ragdoll. She buckled him in. "You're gonna be ok," she whispered. Sponge Bob climbed into the backseat. Karen started the engine. "Let's get him home." The car ride was a blur of Plankton's snores and occasional mumble. Sponge Bob sat in the back, his hand on Plankton's shoulder, keeping his friend from lolling too far to the side. Each time Plankton nodded off, his mouth would droop, and gauze would slip out. "Plankton, gotta keep it in." Plankton mumbled something incoherent, his mouth still open and drooling. Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his hand ready to catch the gauze if it fell out again. Plankton's eye fluttered open, looking around the car. "Just stay with us, ok?" Sponge Bob nodded, hand on Plankton's shoulder. He watched as Plankton's eye drooped, the gauze slipping again. He leaned over and gently pushed it back. "We're almost there." Karen chuckled from the driver's seat. Sponge Bob’s grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "Want to play a game?" "Mmph...game?" he mumbled. "I spy with my little eye, something..." But Plankton's head had already dropped back, snores echoing. Karen glanced in the mirror. "I think he's out for the count," she said. Sponge Bob was still vigilant, making sure Plankton didn't tumble out of the car. With Karen's help, they managed to get him to the couch. Sponge Bob helped prop Plankton up, careful not to jostle him too much. Everything’s just fine.

*✲*´*。.❄¯*✲。❄。*¨`*✲´*。❄¨`*✲。❄。*`* *╔════════════ ༺❀༻❤༺❀༻ ════════════╗* *♥*❄¯*✲❄♫♪♩░B░E░A░U░T░I░F░U░L░ ♫♫♪❄¯*✲❄ *╚════════════ ༺❀༻❤༺❀༻ ════════════╝* *✲*´*。.❄¯*✲。❄。*¨`*✲´*。❄¨`*✲。❄。*`*

tumblr_a3f9c07cd39385f1b046b1b521edfeab_0ff7e001_1280.jpg ⣿⣿⡿⣭⢏⡿⣽⣻⣟⡿⣏⣟⣻⣟⡯⢧⠁⣊⠿⣽⢿⡿⣟⣯⢿⡽⣫⢟⡧⢣⣏⠿⣭⡳⢍⠂⠉⠉⠳⡱⢢⠰⣬⠳⡍⢾⣽⣯⡗⣧⢚⡱⢌⢦⡐⢀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣦⣙⡮⡑⢎⡱⣙⢮⡱⢣⠌⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢤⡙⢎⠳⡰⢠⢂⠄⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣳⣯⣟⡿⣳⢟⡾⡽⢫⠞⣵⢾⣹⢧⡷⢮⣟⣯⣿⡹⢚⡽⠎⣷⡹⣏⢞⡱⢎⣿⢳⡻⣜⠲⡀⠂⠀⠀⠁⠃⢌⠳⣉⠞⡱⢏⡻⣜⢧⡿⣜⣶⣥⢶⣶⣶⢿⠦⣶⡶⣾⣾⣷⣾⣿⢶⣯⢷⢭⣢⢵⣏⠦⠙⠢⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠶⠉⡀⢢⠵⣋⠞⡜⡐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⡙⣞⣿⣳⢯⣷⣽⣺⢷⣭⢣⣟⡼⢫⣟⡯⣝⢣⣟⡾⣵⢫⢇⠂⡉⢶⡱⢫⣖⡘⢮⡹⢳⡻⣜⠳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠢⠓⡌⡐⣠⢏⡴⢩⣞⣽⣟⢿⢿⣿⡺⠿⣖⣒⠬⠉⡿⣈⠻⣔⡙⢦⠅⠂⠙⡏⡏⣷⣔⡼⠀⣄⠂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡼⣩⣛⣬⢫⡜⣡⢃⠖⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠ ⡵⢪⣟⣿⣿⡿⣞⣿⡿⣽⣛⡾⡵⢫⣜⠰⣨⢷⣯⣟⣾⣻⡬⢆⠀⠊⠵⢯⣖⣯⡳⣍⠣⡙⢮⡕⡠⢄⠠⠀⠀⢀⠣⢡⠀⠑⠣⢎⣸⢟⠻⣌⢺⡻⣦⡛⢿⣝⢄⠙⠟⠲⣿⣿⣦⡈⠫⣒⣄⢀⢄⡀⠀⣉⠹⢺⡿⣾⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣱⠧⢯⡜⣧⡟⡔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡈⠵ ⣝⢯⣾⡿⣟⣿⡿⣽⣛⠗⡃⢯⣝⡳⣎⢣⡑⣎⢷⣻⣼⣳⢻⡝⣦⢀⢠⠛⣎⢳⣙⢦⡃⢌⠲⣝⠧⠌⢠⢁⡐⠠⠈⢆⠀⠠⢁⡷⣡⢮⣷⣻⣷⣍⣾⣌⠪⣝⣷⣧⣆⣀⠈⠿⢿⣿⣦⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣔⡎⠾⠋⢩⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⠱⣌⡻⣖⡹⠜⡹⢎⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡙ ⢯⡻⢇⠑⠚⠉⠀⣣⡝⣦⢱⢫⡾⣽⡹⢶⡽⣘⢎⠷⣳⣭⡳⡝⢦⣛⢮⠱⣀⠃⢯⠳⣝⢪⠕⣪⢝⡂⠄⠂⠰⡁⠉⠢⣁⢶⠏⠰⣻⣿⡷⣟⣿⣻⣽⣾⣷⣾⣿⣻⡿⣿⡻⠗⠚⠲⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠠⠶⢴⣻⡆⡀⢀⠀⡄⠠⢀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠌⢳⡉⢎⠁⢧⡻⡔⡌⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡸⡁⠄ ⣧⡙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠝⢮⡳⢧⣻⠱⣍⡳⣽⡰⢎⡀⢀⡳⣽⣹⣏⡳⢌⡳⣆⠞⣬⢛⣬⡳⢎⡵⢪⢑⠂⡈⠰⢁⠀⠀⢋⠎⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⣽⣯⣟⣟⣯⣗⣶⣦⣭⠿⠷⠿⠿⠿⢿⡟⢿⠁⣦⣦⣿⣏⣷⡡⢢⠜⡠⢃⠢⠌⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠙⢦⡘⢧⡝⢾⣱⠎⠐⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀ ⣷⣿⣮⣤⣄⣀⡤⣟⠤⡰⣙⢧⢣⠝⣦⢻⢾⣽⣳⡒⠄⢣⢱⡿⡌⠁⠯⢶⣍⣛⢦⡛⡴⡳⣌⠎⢅⠪⣔⠁⠀⠀⢀⠰⢣⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣛⣩⣍⣩⣤⣼⣷⣘⡧⠀⠙⣝⡲⠈⢿⣇⠊⡅⢄⠂⠡⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠉⠀⠉⢆⠛⣧⢿⡌⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⣿⡿⣿⣟⣾⣳⣿⡝⢢⡱⣏⠶⣡⢚⡼⣫⢞⣼⣳⡝⡀⠀⢫⠞⢩⢆⣘⢧⡞⣽⣲⣝⢲⡙⢖⠮⡄⢳⡬⢳⠄⡠⣨⢞⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡷⠹⢟⣿⣿⣿⠟⡿⠋⢁⣦⣥⣾⣓⡋⠘⣦⡝⡌⢂⠌⡴⠠⢄⡰⠠⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠆⠯⣜⠲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢁⠂⠀⡀⢤⡚⡔ ⡿⣽⢿⣻⣿⣯⣷⢿⣇⡳⢭⠚⡴⣋⠾⣵⣫⠞⣧⢛⡤⣃⢮⡐⢤⡚⡽⢎⣝⡲⡹⣞⢧⡜⣌⠲⣨⢱⢾⡝⣦⡵⡕⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣟⣋⢠⣴⣋⢄⠄⡴⣯⣶⣷⣿⡦⡄⢹⣧⡙⠤⠙⡴⣛⢦⡅⠀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡲⣬⢳⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⠲⣁⠂⡐⠠ ⢧⣛⣾⣻⡽⣯⣛⠾⣝⠣⢈⠢⣡⢛⠶⣭⢛⡶⣭⡚⡥⠛⡌⢳⢌⠷⣣⢞⡽⣣⢧⢛⡼⣣⢍⠲⣏⠾⡜⣷⢟⡕⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣼⡀⣧⣻⡿⢿⡻⣷⡇⢸⣯⢱⣂⠦⣱⢛⡮⡑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠄⠐⡌⢧⠛⢮⠱⡁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢋⠦⡑⢢ ⣿⡽⣶⢣⠟⡶⢭⡻⣽⣣⢆⡵⣂⢯⡻⣌⢇⡚⢡⠓⠌⠓⢬⠳⣬⢳⡱⢎⡜⣣⢏⣞⢲⡱⣮⠝⣜⡣⡜⣬⡿⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢞⡇⠆⡍⢶⡁⠎⡀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⡉⠆ ⣿⣟⣧⠛⡜⣰⢫⡕⣣⢟⡿⣶⣝⣮⢷⣫⣞⢦⣣⠎⠀⠈⠀⠉⠌⢳⣹⢶⣹⣽⢺⣌⠧⡱⣙⠾⣱⠏⡖⣼⢁⡦⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡇⢣⣿⡽⣜⢧⡜⡀⠐⢤⢃⡎⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢢⢱⠳⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⣏⢶⣉⠖⡡⢳⡜⡱⢎⡜⣳⠾⣽⣯⣷⢯⣟⣷⣊⠔⠰⣈⠶⣹⠶⣯⢏⡷⣫⢷⡞⣷⢳⡍⡚⠥⣊⠟⣽⢸⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠣⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⢯⡿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟⣙⢾⣷⢫⡞⠶⣡⢉⢦⢣⡜⡰⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⠀⠀⠀ ⡳⣍⢖⡩⣒⡀⢧⣘⡙⠮⣜⡵⢫⡟⣽⣿⣿⣻⢾⣝⣮⢱⣌⢣⢧⡻⡕⢫⠜⣧⢻⡜⢣⠏⠲⢉⣲⢋⣾⡿⡇⢀⡼⠫⡝⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⣰⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⠶⣹⡝⣣⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡾⠈⢳⡙⢢⢥⣛⢮⠳⣌⡱⢌⠢⠁⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⢆⠰⢀⠒⠄ ⡱⢎⡺⢰⢡⠛⡜⢦⡙⡖⢩⠚⡥⢛⡳⢏⡾⣱⢯⣞⣮⢷⣚⢯⢂⠑⡈⢡⡚⠜⠣⢻⡁⢊⠡⡾⢃⣿⣿⠇⡇⢿⣁⢠⠁⠀⠸⣷⣀⣰⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⢎⡭⢚⡱⢎⡵⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⡗⠀⠀⢌⡡⢎⠷⣪⠕⣮⠕⡊⠀⡐⢀⠂⠀⠂⠌⠄⢢⢱⢂⡐⢦⡓⡜⡌⠒⣤⡉⢆ ⡱⢎⠵⣋⢦⡉⠌⠀⠈⡵⢦⡓⡴⢩⢳⡩⢞⡝⢮⡻⣭⢳⢯⡞⢦⠘⣄⠣⡝⢦⠰⡀⠦⡽⣛⣱⣻⣿⣿⡆⠳⠀⢻⢨⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡿⠟⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣣⠙⢦⡘⢣⠝⡮⣜⣳⢻⣿⢿⢾⣏⡿⢞⠠⣀⠂⠀⠉⠸⣥⢛⡬⢓⠠⠁⡐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢊⡳⢎⡴⢣⡑⡞⣜⡳⢦⡹⢠ ⡱⢊⡜⡱⢺⡼⣆⡀⣀⢉⢣⡝⣮⢓⡧⣝⠎⡜⢠⠙⡜⢯⡞⣜⠠⠉⠂⢝⡜⣣⠑⣄⠣⡽⢣⣯⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⠿⠿⢿⠿⠿⠛⡁⢎⠠⡉⢦⣉⣧⣚⡵⣚⣼⣻⣯⡿⣿⢿⠏⡜⠰⢢⣏⡔⢢⠳⣌⠳⡜⡡⢆⡡⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡙⢮⣱⢳⡼⣹⢮⣝⢣⠐⡁ ⠰⣉⠦⣱⢏⡾⣱⡛⠖⡯⢖⡻⣜⣣⠞⣭⡚⣤⢓⠎⡜⣣⠝⣎⠷⣆⣀⠠⠘⢄⠳⠯⡽⢅⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⠂⠄⠀⠀⢂⠰⣱⡾⣿⢿⣟⡛⢋⡙⢛⠿⣷⡏⣿⣽⣽⣿⠿⠈⠀⢉⣲⡽⢎⡳⣍⢆⡳⣌⡑⢦⡑⢢⠁⠂⠀⠀⠠⠱⣌⠓⣧⢚⣧⢻⣝⡿⣬⢃⢎⠰ ⢒⢬⡚⣵⣯⢿⡥⠁⢌⡰⢣⡹⣬⢳⣛⣶⡹⠆⢏⠚⡵⢣⢞⡴⡻⡜⣥⠳⣍⡆⠁⠈⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠐⠠⠌⡩⠍⠡⠈⠀⠀⠀⢆⣿⣿⣿⣋⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡞⣼⢻⣯⣿⢿⣿⡛⠠⣀⠳⣌⠳⡡⢖⡭⣞⡵⣎⡜⢦⡙⢆⠀⠀⠀⡀⢃⠣⢠⠉⢖⡫⢞⡽⢺⡽⣧⢏⣎⢒ ⡉⢦⡹⣞⡿⣟⠿⣡⢦⡹⣷⣻⡳⢯⡝⣮⢳⣉⢆⡹⣜⢯⢞⡲⣍⠳⣌⠓⡍⡞⡤⣄⢣⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⣻⡽⢷⡌⢏⠻⠿⣿⢿⡿⣻⢽⣟⣾⣿⣏⣼⣧⢣⠁⠀⠡⢈⢣⡙⣎⢶⡹⣞⡵⣺⢧⡛⠮⠑⠊⠀⠀⠀⡖⢦⡙⢤⡙⡞⠼⠣⢿⡜⣣⠞⡬ ⣱⢣⠛⠌⡱⣎⣳⡔⣮⢳⠭⣳⠹⣧⢻⡝⣧⠻⣬⠳⣏⣟⡾⡱⣎⡳⣌⢒⣈⢒⡱⣺⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⣯⢽⣚⢬⢣⡙⡜⢢⢋⠶⡱⡞⣼⣧⣿⣷⣿⡛⡄⢊⠤⡱⣎⢧⡜⣼⣳⣟⣧⢻⡕⣎⠐⠀⠁⠀⠠⡀⠜⡸⢧⠛⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢡⠛⡜ ⢣⡏⣞⡵⣿⣻⢧⠻⣜⣣⢣⢳⡻⣜⢧⣻⡼⣛⢄⠒⣸⡜⡲⠍⠰⢙⠒⠯⡘⢆⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢂⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⢱⣛⡮⣙⠆⣃⠒⣌⠣⢎⡳⣝⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⠣⣝⠢⠱⠳⣽⣳⣞⢷⣛⡾⣭⡳⡜⣄⢂⠀⠀⠀⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠠⠀⢆⠲⡌⠶⡩⢜ ⣿⡽⣞⡟⣧⢛⡬⠑⣜⢦⣋⠶⣙⠬⣣⢧⣹⣽⣬⢫⡔⢯⠵⣮⡭⢆⡙⢆⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠄⠃⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⠀⢀⠣⢞⡳⡁⠎⡀⠣⠤⡙⣌⠳⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠷⣈⢯⠻⡵⢶⣳⡞⣯⣽⣻⢷⣝⡳⠌⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠌⠓⠈⢇⠱⠈ ⣧⡝⣦⠻⣴⢫⡔⢩⢞⣳⡝⣮⠱⢊⠔⢢⣽⣾⣿⠓⣍⣧⡳⣒⢮⡽⢮⣳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡒⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠰⢸⡳⢎⡵⢸⡄⠠⢑⠢⡱⣌⢳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡧⣼⣦⢡⣘⣯⣷⣿⡳⢎⡝⢫⡞⡥⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⣟⢦⢛⡼⢳⠈⠂⢏⡿⣙⢦⠩⠀⠀⠓⠾⣽⣿⣝⠲⣜⢻⣱⢖⡾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢂⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠸⠿⣦⡦⢤⣤⣃⡔⣠⢣⣙⢮⣜⡧⠾⢁⠎⡲⡱⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣆⣷⡻⣮⣿⣟⡿⣿⣷⣙⢆⡈⣱⢻⡐⠁⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣟⣮⢳⡞⡧⠀⠀⠀⠎⡑⢎⡓⠀⠀⢀⡹⣿⣿⡎⠳⣜⢫⡽⣫⢞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣌⠻⢷⠶⣯⣭⣽⣷⣿⡿⢋⠔⡁⢢⢎⡵⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢽⣻⣎⡳⣯⣽⣿⣷⢫⣞⡶⣣⡿⡔⡀⠀⠴⡨⢏⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⣿⣿⣜⣷⣻⡵⠀⠀⢈⠒⣄⠲⡌⢆⡰⢌⡳⢽⣻⡀⠀⡜⢇⡳⣉⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠁⠄⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠙⠚⠧⠷⠼⢷⡛⢧⢃⢣⠐⣌⡶⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣞⢯⣾⢽⣻⣥⠿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠉⣷⠡⠀⠁⠂⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣯⢿⡻⠵⡁⠀⠀⠌⠰⣫⣜⠣⠜⡬⢣⠍⣿⣧⡆⣙⡌⣡⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⡐⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠠⢈⡑⢢⢡⡙⢦⡙⢦⣫⣶⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⡻⢹⡻⢽⠀⠀⠈⢷⡄⠀⠀⠐⢦⡃⠀⠢⡑⢢⠱⡀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣟⣷⣯⣷⣩⠒⡁⠀⠈⡄⢣⡵⢺⠅⠈⠖⡱⢪⡴⣿⣓⢶⡹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡔⢁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠠⠐⠠⠘⢠⠣⡝⢦⣽⡷⣟⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⠧⠄⠀⠀⠸⡗⠀⠀⠀⠣⣇⠀⠐⠀⠂⠡⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡿⢏⣏⢾⣡⠐⢬⡑⢮⡵⣫⠔⡁⢎⣳⡾⢃⠫⢿⣜⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⣉⠰⢀⡁⢂⠐⢠⠢⢅⠢⢌⢦⠳⣞⢯⡳⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⢿⣷⣤⣤⢀⡐⠶⢷⡀⠀⠀⠠⣟⣤⣀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡾⡽⠎⠞⠳⠀⠀⠢⡙⢮⠳⠓⢮⠱⣋⢏⠴⢂⢀⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢢⡑⢢⠐⡂⠌⡄⠒⡌⡑⢎⢆⡻⡜⣮⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣎⡙⣯⢙⢻⣻⡶⣄⣈⠻⠒⠢⢶⣎⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣯⠃⡉⢄⡓⠌⢊⡜⣤⢖⡿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢳⡌⢢⠑⡌⢒⠨⡑⢢⡙⢎⢬⠳⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣵⣋⣼⡫⡶⣦⣤⡀⢩⣓⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢒⠠⡀⠤⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡙⢆⠳⣘⠮⣙⡞⣥⣺⢽⣓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡗⢮⡑⠬⣐⠡⣂⠍⢢⡑⢎⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢽⣯⣻⣻⣬⡿⣠⣬⢿⣎⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠊⠐⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠓⠁⡚⢑⡯⣖⣻⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⠜⡱⢂⠳⡌⡜⣡⠚⣌⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣰⣿⡿⢿⣾⡞⣥⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣵⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⡙⣜⡩⡓⡜⠴⡃⠭⣠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣯⡷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣒⡲⡴⡾⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢏⡞⢤⢳⡹⢌⢣⣑⠳⣉⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡾⣱⠢⠜⠀⠁⠀⠀⠉⠑⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⡞⣜⠣⢧⣙⠎⣖⡡⢓⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⠠⣑⢎⡰⣀⠆⡠⢀⠀⡄⠄ ⢡⢡⢃⡀⠠⡄⢤⠠⡄⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⡸⣌⢛⢦⡙⡞⡴⢩⠖⡬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣷⢮⡻⣴⢋⡞⣥⢏⠶⡨⠑ ⢎⣳⢏⡌⡑⢈⠂⡱⠘⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢱⢪⡍⠶⡹⢬⡱⣃⠞⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡳⣝⠶⣫⢞⡱⣎⡳⢥⣋ tumblr_a3f9c07cd39385f1b046b1b521edfeab_0ff7e001_1280.jpg

"Hey, how's Plankton doing?" asked Patrick. SpongeBob looks at Plankton, chest rising and falling with snores. "He's sleeping," he said. "But it's the middle of the day!" "Well, he just had his wisdom teeth out," he explained in a hushed tone. "He's pretty out of it. But be quiet, ok?" He turned his attention back to Plankton, who had somehow managed to dislodge the gauze again. With a sigh, SpongeBob carefully repositioned it. "You're going to have to keep that in, Plankton," he said, his voice a gentle scold. But Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his snores growing louder with each breath, drool seeping through the gauze. "Look at him, SpongeBob," Patrick whispers. "He's snoring." "Patrick, shh. He's still recovering." "Can I...can I poke him?" "No, Patrick," he said, his voice a low whisper. Patrick's finger was already outstretched, hovering over Plankton. "Just a little? I just wanna see if he'll snore louder," he whispered. SpongeBob's grip on Patrick's hand tightened. "Patrick, remember what I said about being quiet," he reminded him. Plankton stirred in his sleep, snores turning to mumbles. Patrick was undeterred. He leaned even closer to Plankton, his hand hovering above the sleeping creature's forehead. "You're okay, buddy," he whispered, his voice a mix of concern and glee. "Just rest up, and when you wake up, we'll have the best party ever!" Plankton's snores remained steady. He reached out and gently poked Plankton's forehead. "Wake up, little buddy," he cooed, his voice a soft whisper. Plankton's eye snaps open, his tiny body jolting upright with a snort. The gauze fell from his mouth, and he looked around the room with a glazed expression, his eye finally settling on Patrick's massive grin. "Wha... what's going on?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Plankton's eye narrowed, his head lolling slightly to the side. "What happened?" he slurred. SpongeBob took a tentative step closer to the couch, his heart racing. "You had your wisdom teeth out," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "You're at my place, just resting." Plankton blinked, his eye focusing on SpongeBob with a look of confusion. "Wisdom teeth?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. SpongeBob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Yes, Plankton, remember? You're all fixed up now," he said, his voice soothing. But Patrick couldn't resist the urge to add his own twist. "And, you snore!" he whispered, his voice filled with mirth. Plankton's confusion grew. "I... I snore?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mortification. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured, SpongeBob eyes Patrick with a warning look. "What's it feel like?" he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. Plankton looked at Patrick with bewilderment. "It feels...weird," he mumbled, his words slurred. "And my mouth is...numb." Drool had formed at the corner of Plankton's mouth. Patrick couldn't resist pointing it out. "Look, Sponge Bob, he's drooling!" Sponge Bob shot him a look that was a mix of annoyance and amusement before turning back to Plankton. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispered, his voice gentle. "It's normal." Plankton's eye grew distant, his mind still clouded by the anesthesia. "Everything's...so...blurry," he murmured, his words slurring together. Sponge Bob and Patrick exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. "It's the medicine," Sponge Bob explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "It'll wear off soon." But Patrick's curiosity was unquenchable. He leaned closer to Plankton. "Hey, Plankton," he whispered. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "Everything's all... wibbly wobbly." "Wibbly wobbly?" He looked over at Plankton, whose eye was still open, staring at the ceiling with a look of wonder. "Everything's...so...pretty,". "It's just the living room, Plankton. You're still a bit out of it." Patrick's eyes grew wide with fascination. "Hey, Sponge Bob," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at his mouth!" Sponge Bob turned his gaze to Plankton, drooling more than ever. "Patrick, shh," he scolded, his voice a gentle whisper. "Let him rest." Plankton's snores grew quieter for a moment before picking up again, a trail of drool connecting his mouth to the pillow. "Is it...normal?" "It's just his body's way of dealing with the surgery, he can’t help it" he murmured. "It'll go away eventually, all part of the process. It's the stuff that makes you sleep through the surgery, like a really deep sleep so he won’t feel or remember.” "But why does it keep coming out?" "It's because his mouth is numb from the dental surgery, Patrick, it's his mouth muscles still asleep." "Can I...I mean, is it okay to, like, nudge it?" He made contact with the drool, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider. "Patrick," he hissed, his voice a mix of warning and amusement. "You're pushing your luck." His eyes remained fixed on Plankton, watching the drool pool grow and shrink with each snore. He remained blissfully asleep, oblivious to the conversation happening around him "What if I just...dab it with a tissue?" "I guess it’ll help keep him comfortable." He gently touched the tissue to the side of Plankton's mouth, catching the drool before it could fall onto the pillow. The moment the tissue made contact with the saliva Plankton, who was now snoring more heavily, his mouth hanging open even wider, drool cascading onto the pillow, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider., It was a light touch, just enough to make the saliva wobble like a gelatinous blob. It was a tiny movement, but it was enough to make Plankton's snores hitch. "The anesthesia is wearing off, and his mouth is just... reacting. The numbness is normal." With each dab of the tissue, Plankton's snores grew softer, quieted, his mouth twitching slightly, his breathing even. Then Plankton's face twitched slightly, his expression shifting from remaining asleep with breathing deep and steady, to one of slight discomfort as the lingering anesthesia began to wear off. Snores had turned into soft whimpers of discomfort. "It’s normal he's starting to feel the pain." He reached for the medicine. “Just stay still, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispered. Sponge Bob nodded, his smile gentle. "It's just the start," he murmured, his voice a mix of reassurance and experience. "It'll take a bit for the pain to go away." Plankton's mouth was still slack, the drool now a steady stream that pooled on the pillow. Together, they managed to get Plankton into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey you need to wake up just a little bit to take your medicine." Plankton's head lolls back against the pillows. "Patrick, hold his shoulders," Sponge Bob whispered urgently. "We don't want him to fall over." Plankton's gaze searched the room, his thoughts clearly muddled. "There you go," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with relief. He carefully laid Plankton back down on the pillows, wiping the last of the drool from him. Plankton's eye remained open, blinking slowly as the world swam back into focus. "You did it," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with pride as he swallowed medicine. "Now, just rest. The pain will start to go away soon." Plankton's eye drifted closed again, his snores returning, though softer than before. Sponge Bob gently let Plankton's head back onto the pillow. "He's okay now," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice a mix of relief and pride. "Good job, helping Patrick." Patrick's eyes remained wide with wonder, his mind still racing with the excitement of the past few moments. "What happens next?" he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile was a mix of amusement and reassurance. "Now the medicine will kick in."

"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to work on my people skills and to volunteer.." SpongeBob says in the surgery room before recognizing Plankton and Karen. Plankton lay on the operating table, a small tube delivering medicine that kept him asleep. Karen sat by him. "Plankton‽" "Plankton's had his wisdom teeth removed." She glanced at the sleeping Plankton with affection. Sponge Bob leaned closer. He poked Plankton gently. "Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" No response. Plankton's breathing remained slow and even, the rhythm unchanged by Sponge Bob's nudges. Karen's robotic hand shot up to stop Sponge Bob's poking. "He's not going to wake up anytime soon, Sponge Bob. The anesthesia will wear off in a couple of hours," she explained in her usual monotone. Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor deflated a bit. He had never seen Plankton so... peaceful. Usually the tiny villain was full of mischief and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist. But the sight of his arch-nemesis helpless and snoring? "Karen, do you think a little light chat would help him wake up?" "Sponge Bob, the purpose of anesthesia is to keep him unconscious during surgery and ensure a painless recovery. Your efforts are futile." Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. "Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, oblivious to the world around him. Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's nothing you can do to wake him up." She went back to reading her magazine, the glow from her screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features. Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound." The statement hung in the air, and even the normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied the affection she had for her partner. Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen him in various states before—angry, plotting and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep. SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled into the cushioned embrace. "Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you." Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd never noticed Plankton drool before. "It's like a tiny river," he said to himself. What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing back into its original state. He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir. Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with every one of Plankton's breaths. He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement. Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed. Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes fixed on the wobbling mass. At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. The splatter was more substantial this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow. The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. "What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool." Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. He would need precision and timing. The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick. It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake. "Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. She peeked over her magazine, the corners of her robotic mouth curving upward slightly. "If you're going to play, at least be tidy," she said, voice a blend of reprimand and amusement. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's cheek with the tissue. The drool was sticky and clung to the fabric but Sponge Bob managed to clean when Plankton's snoring hitched. This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris before dropping shut again. "What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring." Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. "Mmph." His mouth moved around the word. "Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. Nothing to worry about." The half-awake Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching as Karen put down her magazine and began to fuss over Plankton, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton.

In the quiet town of Ponyville, there lived a young earth pony named Applejack. Her coarse, burnt- orange coat was always dotted with freckles of dirt from a hard day's work on her family's farm, Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack was known for her honesty and her strong work ethic, which were as solid as the oak trees that lined the property. Her mane and tail, a fiery shade of red, matched the color of the apples she grew with such care. One sweltering afternoon, Applejack took a break from her chores, wiping the sweat from her brow with a bandana that smelled faintly of apple blossoms. She looked out over the fields, the sun blazing down like a second sun, and sighed. The harvest was coming soon, and she had so much to do. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and the others, and she wondered how they were spending their day. Her contemplation was interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. She shielded her eyes from the glare and saw a figure approaching. As it grew closer, she recognized the purple and white unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, her friend and the town's resident scholar. Twilight looked flustered, her eyes wide with excitement. "Applejack!" Twilight called out, her voice strained from the run. "You won't believe what I've found in the library archives!" Applejack leaned against the fence post, her curiosity piqued. "What is it, Twilight?" Twilight's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I've discovered something absolutely fascinating, Applejack. It's about an ancient artifact called the Element of Honesty!" Applejack's ears perked up at the mention of something old and precious. "The Element of Honesty? What's so special about it?" Twilight paused to catch her breath, her flank heaving. "It's one of the six Elements of Harmony," she began, "each representing one of the core virtues of our world. The Element of Honesty is said to be a rare and powerful artifact that can reveal the truth in any situation. It's been lost for centuries, but I found a map leading to its last known location!" Her voice grew hushed as she unfolded the ancient parchment, its edges yellowed with age. The map was intricate, with swirling symbols and cryptic notations that seemed to dance before Applejack's eyes. "It's somewhere in the Whispering Woods," Twilight whispered, her horn glowing softly as she traced a line over the paper. "Well, shucks," Applejack drawled, "that's a place I've heard plenty of tall tales about, but never actually visited." The wood had a reputation for being eerie and mysterious, a place where whispers of forgotten secrets lingered on the breeze. But the prospect of finding something as important as the Element of Honesty was too tempting to pass up. Twilight's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Applejack, I think we should go look for it. It's not far from here, and who knows what kind of trouble it could prevent if it falls into the wrong hooves?" Applejack nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "Alright, but we'd better tell the others. They might want to come along." They gathered their friends, who were equally intrigued by the prospect of an adventure. Pinkie Pie bounced with excitement, Rarity's eyes gleamed with the promise of a new treasure to add to her collection, and Fluttershy looked nervous but determined. Rainbow Dash and Rarity promised to keep an eye on Fluttershy, who had a tendency to get spooked in unfamiliar places. They set out into the late afternoon sun, the map fluttering in Twilight's magic as they followed the path into the wood. The Whispering Woods lived up to their name, with rustling leaves and hushed whispers that seemed to follow them through the dappled shade. The air grew cooler, and the scent of damp earth and pine needles filled their nostrils as they ventured deeper. Suddenly, a shadow flitted through the trees. "Greetings, travelers, I am Aloysius, keeper of the woods' lore." His feathers were the color of moonlit silver, and his eyes held a knowing glint. Twilight stepped forward, the map still clutched in her telekinetic grip. "We're looking for the Element of Honesty," she said with a hint of urgency. "Could you help us?" Aloysius tilted his head, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, the Element of Honesty," he murmured. "A treasure indeed. But beware, for the woods are not kind to those who seek without pure intentions." The friends exchanged glances, their determination unwavering. Applejack stepped up, her eyes meeting the owl's. "Our intentions are as true as my word. We aim to protect our town and find this artifact before it falls into the wrong hooves." Aloysius studied them for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I will guide you to the spot where the Element lies hidden. But heed my warning: the woods hold secrets, and they do not give them up easily." The group followed the him, their hoofsteps echoing through the quiet wood. The whispers grew louder, and Applejack couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Twilight, ever the scholar, took notes on the various plants and magical phenomena they encountered, while Pinkie Pie chattered away, trying to keep everyone's spirits high. As they ventured further in, the wood grew denser, the path narrower. The light grew dimmer, the sun's rays barely piercing the thick canopy above. The air grew colder, carrying with it a sense of unease that made even Rainbow Dash's wings flutter anxiously. "This place is giving me the creeps," Fluttershy whispered, her eyes darting around nervously. "Don't worry, Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash assured her, "we're all here for you." Aloysius led them to a clearing, where an ancient tree stood tall, its trunk twisted with age. The whispers grew to a crescendo, swirling around the tree's base like a cacophony of secrets yearning to be heard. "Here it is," He announced, his voice barely audible over the din. "The Element of Honesty lies within this tree. But remember, it will only reveal itself to the worthy." Applejack squinted at the tree, her heart racing. The whispers grew so loud, they seemed to form words, urging them to turn back. But she knew they couldn't. "Thanks, Aloysius," she said, turning to her friends. "Let's get to it."

"Honey, wake up," Karen said gently. Her voice was the sweet sound of a lullaby echoing through the silent, sterile room, but Plankton remained unresponsive. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only reply to her soft pleas. She sat by his side, her hand intertwined with his, her thumb brushing the back of his palm. But now, his hand lay limp, a stark contrast to the warmth and strength it usually exuded. The antiseptic smell of the hospital filled the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, artificial glow on Plankton's pale face. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and the rhythm was the only reassurance Karen had that he was still with her. The doctor had said it was a mild concussion, but the sight of him lying there, so vulnerable, filled her with dread. She knew that she had to stay strong, not just for herself, but for Plankton. The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor stepped in, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He was a young man, his expression a mix of professionalism and concern. He looked at the charts in his hand before glancing up at Karen. "How is he?" he asked. Karen's eyes never left her husband's face as she replied, "The same." The doctor nodded, his eye reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "It's not uncommon for someone with a concussion to sleep longer than usual. We're monitoring him closely, and his vitals are stable. We've given him medication to manage the pain and reduce the swelling." Karen leaned forward, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "But when will he wake up?" she asked, her voice a whisper of hope. The doctor's eyes softened. "It could be hours, or even days. The brain needs time to heal. But rest assured, Mrs. Plankton, we're doing everything we can to ensure a swift and full recovery." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She didn't want to believe it would take that long, but she knew that patience was the only option she had. She leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. Time stretched out before her, each minute feeling like an eternity. The only sounds in the room were the tick of the clock on the wall and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The hospital's white walls closed in around her, making her feel trapped in a world where time had ceased to have meaning. Her thoughts raced, playing out every possible scenario in her head, each one more alarming than the last. A nurse came in to check on Plankton, her shoes squeaking against the floor. She offered Karen a kind smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder before she tended to her husband, checking his bandages and administering fluids through the IV. Karen watched her every move, feeling helpless and out of place. The nurse noticed her distress and offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted with a nod of gratitude. The warm liquid helped soothe her nerves as she took a sip, her eyes never straying from Plankton. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling heavier than the last. The silence was broken only by the occasional murmur from the hallway or the rustle of pages as the nurse updated his chart. Karen's mind drifted back to the moments before the accident, the laughter and the joy that seemed so distant now. Plankton had been working on his latest invention, a contraption he swore would revolutionize the fast-food industry. It was a wild tangle of metal and wires, something that only he could understand. Karen had watched him, her curiosity piqued but her technical knowledge barely scratching the surface of his genius. "What does it do?" she had asked, her eyes wide with wonder. He had grinned, his teeth gleaming in the light of the makeshift workshop. "It's a secret," he had said, his voice filled with mischief. Now, as she sat by his side in the hospital room, she wished she had paid more attention. Perhaps then she could have anticipated the malfunction that had sent him to the emergency room with a concussion. Plankton had always been so driven by his ideas, so wrapped up in his world of gadgets and gizmos, that he often forgot the dangers that came with his experiments. It was his passion, and she had always admired it, but in moments like these, she couldn't help but worry. The room grew dimmer as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor. Karen's eyes grew heavy, and she fought the urge to sleep. Suddenly, Plankton's eyelid fluttered open, revealing eye that searched the room with confusion. "Where am I?" he croaked, his voice dry and scratchy. Karen's heart leaped into her throat, and she leaned forward, her hand tightening around his. "You're in the hospital, sweetie. You had an accident," she said softly, her voice trembling. Plankton blinked several times, his gaze shifting from the blurry ceiling to Karen's face. Recognition dawned in his eyes, but confusion remained etched on his furrowed brow. "What happened?" he murmured, his voice still weak and groggy. Karen's heart swelled with relief at the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath, then explained the accident as calmly as she could. "You fell while working on your latest invention. You hit your head pretty hard. The doctor said it's just a concussion, but you need to rest." Plankton's eyes searched hers, trying to piece together the puzzle of his foggy memory. "A concussion?" he repeated, his voice a mere whisper. "How long have I been out?" Karen's grip on his hand tightened, her knuckles white. "A few hours, darling. But it's going to be okay." She hoped her words were true, that the fear and doubt didn't seep through. Plankton's gaze was unfocused, his thoughts jumbled. He didn't remember the accident, the pain, or the panic that had brought him here. All he knew was the gentle squeeze of her hand and the sterile scent of the hospital room. As he began to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Karen's other hand shot out to steady him, her eyes filled with concern. "Lie back down, Plankton. You need to rest." He obeyed, his head heavy on the pillow, and his eye fell shut again. The doctor had warned her about the potential side effects of the concussion: confusion, dizziness, and memory loss. It was a strange sight, seeing him so unsure of himself, a stark contrast to the usual confidence that radiated from him. When he opened his eye again, the confusion had deepened. "What's the last thing you remember?" Karen asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's eye searched the room, as if the answer was hidden in the shadows. "I... I don't remember," he said, his voice filled with a sense of panic that was alien to him. "It's all blank." Karen felt a chill run down her spine. The doctor had mentioned that amnesia was a possibility, but she hadn't allowed herself to believe it would happen to Plankton. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice shaky. Plankton's eye searched hers, desperation flickering in their depths. "What do you mean, I don't remember?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of anxiety brewing within her. "Sometimes with concussions, memories can be a bit jumbled. But don't worry, they'll come back to you." She hoped her reassurance sounded more convincing than it felt. The doctor had warned her that the road to recovery might be bumpy, but she had never anticipated Plankton's memory loss. Her mind raced, trying to think of ways to help him, to fill in the blanks without overwhelming him. "Do you remember anything at all?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's eye searched the room again, as if the answer was hiding in the corners. "I remember... I remember working," he said, his voice trailing off. "But it's all... fuzzy." Karen felt a pang of sadness at the lost look on her husband's face. She didn't know how to navigate this new, uncharted territory. But she knew she had to be strong for him. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. "You just need to rest." The doctor had instructed her to keep the environment calm and familiar to aid in his recovery. So, she began to speak in soothing tones, telling him stories of their past adventures. Her words painted a picture of a life filled with love and adventure, and she watched as his face relaxed with each passing moment. His breathing grew steadier, his chest rising and falling in a more natural rhythm. The hospital room was a cocoon of beige and white, the only color coming from the bouquet of flowers she had brought from home. Plankton's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of deep sleep, his breathing steady and even. The heart monitor beeped reassuringly, a metronome to the symphony of his rest. His face was peaceful, free from the tension that had gripped it earlier. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she realized the immediate danger had passed. For now, at least, he was safe, and she was grateful for every moment of his peaceful rest. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for now, she was content to sit by his side and enjoy the quiet.

🌺🪸🐬🥥🥥🦩🐚🏝️🌴🍹🐠

🧜🏼‍♀️🖤❄️ 🧜🏼‍♀️🖤❄️

i just saw bad stuff on this app ⋆ ̤̮ ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌₊ ⊹

ᶜᶤᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ⁽ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴸᵃᵗᶤᶰ ᶜᶤᵇᵘˢ˒ ᵐᵉᵃᶰᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈˢ⁾ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵏᶰᵒʷᶰ ᵃˢ ˢᶤᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ⁽ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ˒ ˢᶤ̂ᵗᵒˢ⁾ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᶰᵈ/ᵒʳ ᵈʳᶤᶰᵏ ᴮʳᵃᶰᶜʰᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵒᶠ ᶤᶰᶜˡᵘᵈᵉ ᴾᵃᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶻʸᵐᵃʳᶤᵏᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵃᵍᵒᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴰᶤᵖˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᶤᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃᶠᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹʸᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵃᶜᶜʰᵃʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬˡˡ ᶤᵗᵉᵐˢ # ᴬ ᴮ ᶜ ᴰ ᴱ ᶠ ᴳ ᴴ ᴵ ᴶ ᴷ ᴸ ᴹ ᴺ ᴼ ᴾ ᵠ ᴿ ˢ ᵀ ᵁ ᵛ ᵂ ᵡ ᵞ ᶻ ᴬ ᴬᵇᶻᶤᶜʰᵉᵉᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᶜᵉʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᶜʳᶤˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬˡᵃᵗᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬˡˡᶤᵘᵐᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬˡᵗʰᵃᶤᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᶰᵃᵖˢʸᵗᶤᵏᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᵖᶤᵉᵐᵉᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᵖᶤᵒᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᵠᵘᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬʳᵃᶜʰᶤᵇᵘᵗʸʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬʳᵃᵏᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬʳᵒᵐᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬʳᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴬᵘᵇᵉʳᵍᶤᶰᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮ ᴮᵃᵍᵉˡᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᵃᶰᵃᶰᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᵉᶤᵏᵒᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᶤᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᶤᶠᵗᵉᵏᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᶤˢᵏᵒᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᵒᵒᵇᵉʳᵒᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮʳᵒʷᶰᶤᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴮᵘʳʳᶤᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜ ᶜᵃᵉʳᵗᵘʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃᶠᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃᵏᵉᵈᵖᵃᶰˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃˡᵃᵐᵘˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃᶰᵈʸᶜᵃᶰᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃᶰᵈʸᶜᵒʳᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵉˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃʳᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵃʳʳᵒᵗᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᶤᶜˡᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᶤˡᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᵒᶜˣʸᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᵒᶤʳᶤᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᵒᶤʳᵒᵐᵉʳᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰᵒᵗᵈᵒᶰᵏᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰʸᵐᵒᵐᶤˡᵒᵘᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʰʸᵐᵒᵖᵒʳᵗᵒᵏᵃˡᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᶤᵇᵒᶠᵉˢᵗᶤᶰᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᶤᵇᵒˡᵃˡᶤᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᶤᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵒᶜᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵒʳᵖᵒʳᶤᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵉˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʳᵃᵖᵒˢᵃᶰᵈʷᶤᶜʰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʳᶤˢᵖˡᵒʷᶠʳᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜʳᵘˢᵗᵘᵐᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵘᶜᵘʳᵇᶤᵗᵃᶜᵉᵃᵉᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵘᶜᵘʳᵇᶤᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶜᵘᵖᶜᵃᵏᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴰ ᴰᵉʰʸᵈˡᵉᵍʳᶤᵗʰˡʸᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴰᶤᵖˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴰᵒᵘᵇᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴰᵘˡᶜᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴱ ᴱᵍᵍᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵘˢᵐᵃˣᶤᵐᵘˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠ ᶠᵃʲᶤᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠᵃˢᵒˡᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠᶤˡˡᵉᵗᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠˡᶤᵗᶻᵃᶰᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠʳᵃᵍᵃʳᶤᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠʳᵃᵒᵘˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠʳᵘᶜᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠʸᵏᶤᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶠɤᵖᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳ ᴳᵃˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳᵃʳᶤᵈᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳᶤᵃᵒᵘʳᵗᶤᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳᶤᶰᵍᵉʳᵇʳᵉᵃᵈᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳˡᵉᶤᶠᶤᵗᶻᵒᵘʳᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴳᵘˢᵗᵃᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴴ ᴴᵃˡᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴴᵃᵐᵇᵘʳᵍᵉʳᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴵ ᴵᶜʰᵗʰʸᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴵᵉᶰˢᶤᵐᵖᵉᵗʳᵒᵛᵉˢᵗʳᶤᵖᵃᵗᵉʳᵃᵈˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴶ ᴶᵉˡˡʸᵇᵉᵃᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴶᵘᶰᵏᶜᶤᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷ ᴷᵃˡᵃᵐᵖᵒᵏᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷᵉʳᵃˢᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷᵉᵗˢᵃᵖᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵃˡᵃᵐᵖᵒᵏᶤᵒᵘᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷᵘᵐᵠᵘᵃᵗᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴷᵘʳᵇᵉʳᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸ ᴸᵃᶜʰᵃᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵃᶜᵘᵗᶤᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵉᵐᵒᶰᵃᵈᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᶤᵖᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵒᵠᵘᶤᵗᵘʳᶜᶤᵇᵘˢᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵒᵘᵏᵃᶰᶤᵏᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵒᵘᵏᵒᵘᵐᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴸᵃ̈ʳᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹ ᴹ&ᴹᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵃᶜᵃʳᵒᶰᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵃᵍᵉᶤʳᵒᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵃᵍᶤᵒᶰᵉᶻᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵃˡˡᶤᵗᶤᵍʳᶤᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵃˡᵘˢᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗᶤᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᶜᴰᵒᶰᵃˡᵈᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᶜᴰᵒᶰᵃˡᵈˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵉᵍᵃᵇʳᵘᶤˢᵉʳᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵉᵗʰʸᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵉᵗʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵒˢᶜʰᵒˡᵉᵐᵒᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵒᵘʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵒᵘˢᵗᵃʳᵈᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹᵘᶠᶠᶤᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹʸᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴹʸʳᵗᶤˡᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴺ ᴺᵃᵇᶤˢᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴺᵃᶜʰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼ ᴼᵃᵗᵐᵉᵃˡ⁻ᴳᵘʸᴾʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼᵉᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼʳᵉᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼˢᵒˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵒᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼᵛᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴼᵛᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾ ᴾᵃᵍᵒᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵃˡᵐᵃʳᶤᵃ ᴾᵃˡᵐᵃᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵃᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵃᵗᵃᵗᵃᵏᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵉᵐᵐᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵉᵖᵖᵉʳˡᵘᶜᶤᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵉᵖᵖᵉʳᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒʷᶤᵏᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᶤᶻᶻᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵒᵖᶜᵒʳᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾᵒᵖˢᶤᶜˡᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴾˢᵒᵐᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵠ ᵠᵘᵉˢᵃᵈᶤˡˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴿ ᴿᶤᵍᵃᵗᵒᶰᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᴿʸᶻᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢ ˢᵃᶜᶜʰᵃʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵃᵍᶤᵒᵘᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᴬᵁˢᴬᴳᴱᴬᴴᵡᴾᴴᴼᴮᴵᴬ ˢᶜʰᶰᵉˢˢᵉᶰᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᶤᶰᵃᵖᶤᵛᶤʳᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᶤᵗᵃʳᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵏᶤᵗᵗˡᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵐᵉᵒᵘʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵖᵃᵍʰᵉᵗᵗᶤᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵖˡᵉˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ˢᵗᵃʳᵇᵘᶜᵏˢᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀ ᵀᵃᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᶤᵍᵃᶰᶤᵗᵉᵖᵃᵗᵃᵗᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᶤᵍᵃᶰᵒᵖˢᵒᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᶤᵐᵐᶤᵉᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᵒʳᵗᶤˡˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᵘᵇᵉʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵀᵘʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵁ ᵛ ᵛᵃᶠˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᵃᶰᶤˡˡᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᵃᵗᵒᵐᵒᵘʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᶤᵛᶤᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᵒᵈᶤᶰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᵒᵘᵗᶤᵐᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵛᵒᵘᵗʸʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵡ ᵡᵒᶜᵒˡᵃᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵞ ᵞʳᵒᵘˣᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᵞᵁᴹᴹᵁᴷᴿᴵˢᴾᴱᴴᴷᴿᴱᴹᴹᴱᴾᴴᴼᴮᴵᴬ ᶻ ᶻʸᵐᵃʳᶤᵏᵃᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ ᶻʸᵗʰᵒᵖʰᵒᵇᶤᵃ

,µµµ, ,,, ╔▒▒Ñ▒▒▒▒ ,µ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒╬▒▒u ▒Ö▒▒Ñ▒▒▓▒ ,▒▒▒Ñ▒Ñ▒▒▒Ñ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒M▒▓▒░ ╔▒▒▒▒╬▒Ñ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒@▓▓▒ ▒▒M▒▒DM▓▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓M▓M▓▓▓▓▓▒ ▒▓▒▒▒▒▒Ñ▓░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▀▀▀▀▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒ ╔▒▒▒M╣▒▒▒▒ .,µµµ╦µµµ,. ▒▒▒▒@▒▓▒` `▒▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒ ▒▒▒ÑÑ▒▒▒▒░,µß@M╣▒▒▒▒▒Ñ▒▒▒▒▒╦, ,µµ╗▒▒pµµ. ░╬▒▒▒▒▒▒░ `▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓@ÑMM▒@@▒╬▓▓▓Ñ▓@▓▒▒▒Ñ▒µ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒%▒▒▒▒▒▒M▒▓▒ 1▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒M▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒M▒▒▒▒▒M@▒▒▒▒▒▒╬▒▒▒M▒@▓▓M▒. ▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒ ▒▓▒▒▒ÑM▓▓▓▓▓█▀▀╩``` ``╙▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒╙` .▒▒ÑÑMÑM▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓@▒▒▒µ, ,,µ@▓▓▓▓▓███▒░ ╙▒M▓▓M▓▓▓▓▓▌▒ ▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░ ╔å▒%M▒▓M╩ `▒▓▓▓▓▓▓MM▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓███▒` ▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒ ▒▓▓▓▓▓▌▒ ╔▒@▓▓▓M▒░ ▒▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▀▒ ▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██▌░ ▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒Ñ▓▓▓▓▓@@@@@pµ, ╙▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▀▀" ▒▓▓▓▓███▌▒ ▒▓▓▓▓█▀▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▀▀▀M▒▒M▒▒▒u `╙▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀╝╙` ▒▀█████▀░ `╙▀▀╝"``╝╝╝╩` `╙▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒╝M▒▒µµ. `╙╝▀▀╩ . . /. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒╣▓▓▓▓▄▒µ ∩ ,` ╒└ :▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▄ ` └ (-` ',─ ¬ ` ' :▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▀▀▒ ┌ `─ `¬` ' - `:ª ` . -:ª :▒▒▒▒M▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▀▀╝╝╙``` ` . :▒▒Ñ▓▓▓▓▓▓▒` .- . ` `¬ ▒Ñ▓▓▓▓▓▓▌▒ / ' ``, ╒ , └ ▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒ ` \ `` : `` ▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░ ▒Ñ▓▓▓▒ `▒Ñ▀▒

H2O (série télévisée) Titre original H2O: Just Add Water Genre Série fantastique Pays d'origine Drapeau de l'Australie Australie Chaîne d'origine Network Ten Nb. de saisons 3 Nb. d'épisodes 78 Durée 24 minutes Diff. originale 7 juillet 2006 – 16 avril 2010 Épisodes Première saison (2006) Article détaillé : Saison 1 de H2O. Métamorphose (Metamorphosis) Soirée piscine (The Pool Party) Cléo se jette à l'eau (Catch of the Day) Soirée pyjama (Party Girls) La petite espionne (Something Fishy) Amour en herbe (Young Love) Pleine lune (Moon Spell) L'affaire Denman (The Denman Affair) Pêche en eaux troubles (Dangerous Waters) La caméra ne ment pas (The Caméra Never Lies) Nage ou coule (Sink or Swim) Le chant de la sirène (The Siren Effect) Le naufrage (Shipwrecked) Surprise ! (Surprise!) Le grand frisson (The Big Chill) Malade d'amour (Lovesick) Une maladie foudroyante (Under the Weather) La grande méchante lune (Bad Moon Rising) Sacrée cousine (Hurricane Angela) Ça mord (Hook, Line and Sinker) Une sirène rousse (Red Herring) Menace sur Mako (Fish Out of Water) Le médaillon (In Too Deep) Potion magique (Love Potion #9) La science attaque (Dr Danger) L'éclipse de lune (A Twist in the Tail) Deuxième saison (2007) Article détaillé : Saison 2 de H2O. La tempête (Stormy Weather) Self control (Control) Teuf d'enfer (The One That Got Away) Le feu et la glace (Fire and Ice) Abracadabra (Hocus Pocus) Poisson frais (Pressure Cooker) Un job pour Lewis (In Hot Water) Zane Zorro (Wrong Side of the Tracks) Herbe folle (Riding for a Fall) Cléo contre Charlotte (Missed the Boat) Une plongée qui rapporte (In Over Our Heads) Corail toxique (Fish Fever) Panique sur l'île (Moonwalker) La méthode forte (Get Off My Tail) Irrésistible (Irresistible) Double trouble (Double Trouble) Coup de lune (Moonstruck) De l'orage dans l'air (The Heat is On) L'héritage des sirènes (partie 1) (The Gracie Code (Part One)) L'héritage des sirènes (partie 2) (The Gracie Code (Part Two)) Une de plus (And Then There Were Four) Drôle d'équipe (Funny team) À la renverse (Reckless) L'anniversaire de Lewis (Three's Company) En eau trouble (Sea Change) La magie de la lune (Unfathomable) Troisième saison (2009) Article détaillé : Saison 3 de H2O. Ouverture (The Awakening) Juste un mauvais Rêve (Jungle Hunt) Des ennemies Sous la Main (Keep Your Enemies Close) La Saint-Valentin (Valentine's Day) Les grandes idées (Big Ideas) Secrets et mensonges (Secrets and Lies) Bonheur familial (Happy Families) Enlèvement (Kidnapped) Les apprentis sorciers (The Sorcerer's Apprentice) Un secret dévoilé (Revealed) Un cœur à prendre (Just a girl at heart) Crime et châtiment (Crime & punissement) Un mariage presque parfait (To Have and To Hold Back) La magie des sirènes (Mermaid magic) Jeux de pouvoir (Power play) Face cachée (The dark side) L'énergie de Mako (One magnetic attraction) Dans la lumière (Into the light) En rupture (Breakaway) Reine d'un jour (Queen for day) Le bijou volé (The Jewel Thief) Sur le chemin de la vérité (Mako's Masters) Fête sur la plage (Beach Party) Des vacances de rêve (Too Close For Comfort) Rendez-vous avec le destin (A Date With Destiny) Remise des diplômes (Graduation ceremony) Phoebe Tonkin interprète Cléo Sertori Cariba Heine interprète Rikki Chadwick Claire Holt interprète Emma Gilbert Indiana Evans interprète Isabella "Bella" Hartley

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𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 ♡❁♡

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣿⣷⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠈⠙⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⠋⠁⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿ ⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣷⣦⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⣴⣾⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀ ⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ꕤ*.ﾟ♡┊𝕀 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪, 𝕀 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕪. 𝕊𝕖𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪┊ ꕤ*.ﾟ♡

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩ ♡ "𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡." ♡. ✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

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https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.romi.gov/DocumentCenter/View/1546&ved=2ahUKEwjOhv_BwIyHAxUnLkQIHSI5B8w4HhAWegQIGRAB&usg=AOvVaw17gt2LeZw0RCEB1FIJQ1xk

November 17, 2013 It's hard to forget Someone who gave you So much to remember.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆⭒˚｡⋆

ha༘n⋆✿

⋆˚✿♄ಇ𓎆αㅤ ᵕ̈

ha༘na⋆✿

💐 Even if they're young, their stories shouldn't be forgotten. 💐

๑❤๑♥๑ "In all things of nature, there is something of the marvelous." — Aristotle ๑❤๑♥๑ ꧁꧂

⋆.ೃ࿔.🌊𖥔 ݁🐚 ˖*:･༄

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌊˚⋆.˚🧜‍♀️₊⊹🫧

..ღ❤❤•❤ღDAUGHTERღ❤•❤❤ღ..

𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎... ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⡤⠤⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠐⠒⡄⠀⡠⠒⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠤⠤⣤⣤⣤⡄ ⠈⠻⣿⡤⠤⡏⠀⠉⠙⠲⣄⠀⢰⢠⠃⢀⡤⠞⠋⠉⠈⢹⠤⢼⣿⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⡅⠓⢒⡤⠤⠀⡈⠱⣄⣼⡴⠋⡀⠀⠤⢤⡒⠓⢬⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣯⣐⢷⣀⣀⢤⡥⢾⣿⠷⢥⠤⣀⣀⣞⣢⣽⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢙⣿⠝⠀⢁⠔⡨⡺⡿⡕⢔⠀⡈⠐⠹⣟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣟⢦⢶⢅⠜⢰⠃⠀⢹⡌⢢⣸⠦⠴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⡬⡌⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⣧⢧⣵⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀

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Brittany Anne Trish Byrnes (nacida el 31 de julio de 1987) es una actriz australiana de televisión conocida por su papel de Charlotte Watsford en H2O: Just Add Water. Capacitada en todos los aspectos de la danza (jazz, tap y ballet) desde los 4 años en Bradshaw, Academia de Artes Escénicas en Sydney. El primer papel fue en Babe, cuando desempeñó de nieta. A partir de ahí ha actuado en películas como Little Oberon, Sirenas y Swimming Upstream. También ha estado en series de televisión incluyendo Beastmaster, Todos los Santos y la segunda temporada del show australiano H2O: Just Add Water como Charlotte. En 2005 fue nominada para un premio AFI por su desempeño en Little Oberon. Filmografía: 1995 - Babe: Nieta 1996 - Twisted Tales (TV) 1 Ep: ("Night of the Monster"): Jessie 1996 - G. P. (TV) 1 Ep: ("Sing Me a Lullaby") 1997 - Search for Treasure Island (TV) 26 Eps: Thea Hawkins 1998 - Children's Hospital (TV) 1 Ep: ("Future Shock"): Helen Voyt 1998 - Breakers (TV): Catherine 1998 - The Violent Earth (TV miniseries): Helene 2000 - BeastMaster (TV) 1 Ep: ("Riddle of the Nymph"): Muraki 2000 - Water Rats (TV) 2 Eps: Geena Sadler 2001 - Escape of the Artful Dodger (TV) 26 Eps: Hannah Schuler 2001 - When Good Ghouls Go Bad: Dayna 2003 - Swimming Upstream: Diane Fingleton 2003 - Mermaids: Tess 2005 - Little Oberon: Natasha Green 1998 - 2006. All Saints (TV) 4 Eps: Vicki Rees, Vicky Ross, Jacinta Clarke, Becky Franklin 2007 - H2O: Just Add Water (TV): Charlotte Watsford Carrera: Charlotte Watsford: Charlotte Watsford es la chica nueva (aparece en la segunda temporada por primera vez) y siente algo por Lewis desde que se lo presenta Cleo. Cuando Lewis y Cleo cortan ella se acerca a Lewis y esto hace que no se lleve bien con Cleo. Acaba saliendo con Lewis y eso provoca los celos de Cleo. Después de ver que las chicas tienen una misteriosa foto de su abuela (la cual era sirena), las investiga, le saca información a Lewis y descubre que las chicas so

"Honey, did you take out the trash?" Karen called out to the living room. The only reply was the distant sound of the TV playing a sitcom laugh track. She sighed. Going into the living room, Karen found her husband, Plankton, sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. The TV's blue light flickered over his face. She looked around the room, the piles of laundry, the dusty bookshelves, and the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. It was a mess, but she knew better than to wake him. Plankton had been working long hours at the chum factory lately, trying to make ends meet. His snoring grew louder, and she felt a wave of affection mixed with concern. Gently, she covered his legs with a blanket and bent to kiss his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up. In the kitchen, Karen grabbed a cup of coffee, the warmth and aroma grounding her for the evening ahead. The fridge hummed a low lullaby, reminding her of the chores left to do. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of dinner. A pot with half-eaten chum congealed on the stovetop. Karen rolled up her sleeves, determined to tackle the chaos. She knew Plankton was exhausted from work. The clanking of pots and pans echoed through the tiny kitchen as she washed and sorted, her mind racing with thoughts of their future. A knock at the door startled her. She dried her hands on a towel, leaving wet spots like tears on the fabric. It was Hanna, her best friend since high school. Karen had not seen Hanna in weeks, and the sight of her brought a smile. Hanna was a burst of energy. "Hi, Karen! How's it going?" Hanna's voice was a mix of sweetness and the sharpness of someone who had seen too much of the world. She scanned the room, taking in the clutter, the stale smell of overworked air, and Plankton's snoring. "Hey, Hanna," Karen managed, her voice soft to not disturb his sleep. "It's been a bit hectic, but we're making do." Hanna stepped in, eyeing the mess sympathetically. "Looks like you could use a hand," she said, already grabbing a dish towel. Karen's smile grew. "You read my mind. Thanks." Hanna tossed the towel over her shoulder, ready to jump into the fray. "You know me," she said with a wink. "I've never been one to shy away from a mess." The two of them worked side by side, the rhythm of their movements harmonizing as they cleared the kitchen. Karen felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease as Hanna filled the room with stories of her latest adventures, a welcome distraction from the monotony of chores. As the last plate was put away, the fridge closed with a satisfying click, Karen leaned against the counter. Hanna looked at her. "You've been carrying a lot, haven't you?" she asked, her voice gentle. Karen nodded, her eyes welling up. "It's just that with Plankton's job, and the bills..." Hanna pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, sweetie. You're doing the best you can." They sat down in the living room, the clean kitchen a testament to their friendship's strength. Hanna's screen searched Karen's for a sign of the spark that used to be there. "I can't remember the last time we went out together," Hanna said. "You two deserve a break." Karen's screen lit up at the suggestion, but quickly dimmed. "We can't afford it," she said, sighing. "Not with the overtime Plankton's been doing." Hanna leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I might have a little surprise for you," she said. Karen looked up, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" Hanna pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and handed it to her friend. "A gift," she said with a sly smile. "A check from my winning lottery ticket." Karen's eyes widened as she opened the envelope. "Hanna, no!" she protested. "You can't just give us your winnings!" Hanna's smile didn't waver. "I can, and I want to. You've been there for me through everything. It's about time I returned the favor. Besides," she said with a wink, "what's a little chum between friends?" Karen's hands trembled as she read the check. It was more than enough to cover their rent and bills for several months. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hugged Hanna tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. The weight of financial stress lifted slightly from her shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. For a moment, the world didn't seem so overwhelming. Hanna pulled back, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, don't spend it all in one place," she teased. Karen laughed, the sound small but genuine. "I won't," she promised, the check clutched in her hand. "We'll use it wisely." The two of them sat quietly for a while, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The TV had switched to the news, and the low murmur of the anchor's voice filled the room. Plankton's snoring had become a comforting white noise. Hanna looked at Plankton, her expression thoughtful. "You know, I've always admired the way you take care of him," she said. "It can't be easy." Karen nodded, her thumb tracing the edges of the check. "It's not," she admitted. "But he's my Plankton. I love him, even when he's exhausting." Her gaze drifted to the sleeping form of her husband. Plankton's snores grew more even, his face finally relaxed. The lines of stress that usually pinched his features had smoothed out in sleep. Karen knew that Plankton had always dreamed of more than his life at the chum factory could offer. He was a man of ambition, his spirit too large for the cramped quarters they called home. Her thoughts turned to the gift from Hanna. The check represented more than just money; it was a beacon of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could finally start working towards those dreams.

General anesthesia is a combination of medications that provide loss of consciousness, prevent memory formation, and eliminate pain. This allows a patient to have surgery without any memory of the event and to be completely pain free during the procedure. Most will get a little silly and lightheaded, thence may not even remember things about. The goal of general anesthesia is to make a person unconscious and keep him or her that way throughout a procedure. This is so the patient has no awareness or recollection of this procedure, so they have no knowledge it even happened. General anesthesia does a number of things on top of making a person unconscious. It relieves anxiety, minimizes pain, relaxes muscles (to keep the patient still), and helps block out the memory of the procedure itself. Most of the time, when you wake up and the anesthesia effect wears off, you will be confused and overwhelmed, even completely unaware of surroundings. Some will be talking without knowing what they’re saying.

*•.¸♡ 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. ♡¸.•* __________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚          ✧. ┊          ⋆ ★

Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

Three broad categories of anesthesia exist: General anesthesia suppresses central nervous system activity and results in unconsciousness and total lack of sensation, using either injected or inhaled dr*gs. General anesthesia (as opposed to sedation or regional anesthesia) has three main goals: lack of movement (paralƴsıs), unconsciousness, and blunting of the stress response. Sedation suppresses the central nervous system to a lesser degree, inhibiting both anxıety and creation of long-term memories without resulting in unconsciousness. Sedation (also referred to as dissociative anesthesia or twilight anesthesia) creates hypnotic, sedative, anxiolytic, amnesic, anticonvulsant, and centrally produced muscle-relaxing properties. From the perspective of the person giving the sedation, the patıents appear sleepy, relaxed and forgetful, allowing unpleasant procedures to be more easily completed. From the perspective of the subject receiving a sedative, the effect is a feeling of general relaxation, amnesia (loss of memory) and time pass1ng quickly. Regional and local anesthesia block transmission of nerve impulses from a specific part of the bødy. Depending on the situation, this may be used either on it's own (in which case the individual remains fully conscious), or in combination with general anesthesia or sedation. When paın is blocked from a part of the bødy using local anesthetics, it is generally referred to as regional anesthesia. There are many types of regional anesthesia either by ınjectıons into the tissue itself, a vein that feeds the area or around a nerve trunk that supplies sensation to the area. The latter are called nerve blocks and are divided into peripheral or central nerve blocks. Local anesthesia is simple infiltration by the clinician directly onto the region of interest (e.g. numbing a tooth for dental work). Peripheral nerve blocks use dr*gs targeted at peripheral nerves to anesthetize an isolated part of the bødy, such as an entire limb. Neuraxial blockade, mainly epidural and spinal anesthesia, can be performed in the region of the central nervous system itself, suppressing all incoming sensation from nerves supplying the area of the block. Most general anaesthetics are ınduced either intravenously or by inhalation. Anaesthetic agents may be administered by various routes, including inhalation, ınjectıons (intravenously, intramuscular, or subcutaneous) Agent concentration measurement: anaesthetic machines typically have monitors to measure the percentage of inhalational anaesthetic agents used as well as exhalation concentrations. In order to prolong unconsciousness for the duration of surgery, anaesthesia must be maintained. Electroencephalography, entropy monitoring, or other systems may be used to verify the depth of anaesthesia. At the end of surgery, administration of anaesthetic agents is discontinued. Recovery of consciousness occurs when the concentration of anaesthetic in the braın drops below a certain level (this occurs usually within 1 to 30 minutes, mostly depending on the duration of surgery) The duration of action of intravenous induction agents is generally 5 to 10 minutes, after which spontaneous recovery of consciousness will occur. Emergence is the return to baseline physiologic function of all organ systems after the cessation of general anaesthetics. This stage may be accompanied by temporary neurologic phenomena, such as agitated emergence (acute mental confusion), aphasia (impaired production or comprehension of speech), or focal impairment in sensory or motor function.

Feb 21, 2014 03:55 PM Anesthesia has been referred to as a reversible coma. When coming out of anesthesia in recovery, most people experience a profound sense of confusion and disorientation. It takes a while for the brain to actually wake up, even after you are conscious. Most people don't remember much after the pre-op sedative has been given. You may need a type of anesthesia where you lose consciousness. You can experience confusion as you “wake up” after the procedure with this type of anesthesia. It holds several different purposes depending on the procedure — sometimes to relieve pain, to “knock” you unconscious or to induce amnesia so you have no memory or feeling of a medical procedure. General anesthesia knocks you out completely, while local anesthesia is only applied to certain body parts or patches of skin. General anesthesia involves going into a coma-like state. It’s like being asleep. You will not be aware of what’s happening around you or feel pain. You will receive this type through an IV or mask. The surgeon will monitor you throughout the procedure and adjust medications as needed so you don’t wake up. It’s likely you’ll have no memory of the procedure. The anesthesia used to put you into an unconscious state can take some time to wear off, even as you become more awake after the procedure. You may experience: drowsiness confusion weakness uncoordinated movements lack of control of what you say blurry vision memory problems These side effects should be temporary. It may take 1 to 2 days to fully regain all your thinking abilities. In some cases, you can experience postoperative delirium. This can cause you to feel “out of it” for a longer period of time. Conscious sedation and general anesthesia can affect your short-term memory. You may not remember anything you say or do during the procedure or immediately after it.

Anesthesia/Sedation: The surgeon or anesthesiologist administers general anesthesia, making you “sleep” without recalling the procedure. Your vitals like bľood pressure and heart rate are monitored. You’ll be sleepy. Nitrous Oxide (Laughing Gas): Quick to take effect and wear off, this gas keeps you calm and comfortable but awake and responsive. Many sedatives also induce amnesia, so won’t remember the procedure. You can still respond during the procedure but likely won’t recall it, as you might not remember the visit. General Anesthesia: it puts you to sleep during the procedure. Your vitals are closely watched, and you’ll wake up after without any memory of the work. It renders unconscious with no memory of the procedure. Post-treatment, they may experience altered sensations.

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General anaesthesia is a state of controlled unconsciousness. During a general anaesthetic, medicines are used to send you to sleep, so you're unaware of surgery and do not move or feel pain while it's carried out. General anaesthesia is used for surgical procedures where it's safer or more comfortable for you to be unconscious. It's usually used for long operations or those that would otherwise be very painful. Just before you have surgery, you'll usually be taken to a room where your anaesthetist will give you the general anaesthetic. It will either be given as a: liquid that's injected into your veins through a cannula (a thin, plastic tube that feeds into a vein, usually on the back of your hand) gas that you breathe in through a mask The anaesthetic should take effect very quickly. The anaesthetist will stay with you throughout the procedure. They'll make sure you continue to receive the anaesthetic and that you stay in a controlled state of unconsciousness. They'll also give you painkilling medicine into your veins, so that you're comfortable when you wake up. Recovery After your operation, the anaesthetist will stop the anaesthetic and you'll gradually wake up. You'll usually be in a recovery room at first, before being transferred to a ward. General anaesthetics can affect your memory, concentration and reflexes for a day or two, so it's important for a responsible adult to stay with you for at least 24 hours after your operation, if you're allowed to go home.

Dr. McDermott's dental office. Plankton had been in surgery for wisdom teeth. The receptionist, a young woman named "Samantha," was going up to Karen. "Your husband is to be taken to the recovery," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. Karen nodded. Samantha led her down. Plankton was laid out on a narrow bed, his mouth open slightly. "He's still under," Samantha whispered, "but going to start bringing him out of it now. Waking is a gradual process so.." Karen nodded. She watched as a nurse approached, deftly adjusting tubes and machines connected to him. The nurse flicked a switch and began to decrease the flow. The anesthesia diminished. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically, his eye remained closed. Karen reached out and took his hand, her thumb brushing against his. She squeezed gently, hoping it might provide some comfort, or at least a thread of familiarity, as he began his journey back to consciousness. A few moments later, Plankton's hand twitched ever so slightly in response. "It's ok honey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. A nurse, named Margaret, offered an assuring smile. "It's normal for it to take time. Just keep talking to him, it'll help." Karen leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. "Remember our first date?" she began. Plankton's snore was the only response. "Don't worry, he'll come around soon. Anesthesia can take a while to wear off. And when he does, he'll be groggy. It's like waking up from a deep sleep." Her thoughts drifted to Plankton's snoring, a comforting sound. She squeezed his hand again, trying to will him to wake with her touch. Then, to her surprise, she heard a murmur. "Mm, chum... so... much... chum..." The nurse, Margaret, gave her a knowing look. "It's common for patients to talk in their sleep as they come out of it. Sometimes they say the darndest things." Karen smiles. "Chum?" she repeated, "Is that what you're dreaming about?" "Needff... chum..." "You're ok," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "You're just dreaming, sweetie." "Chum... I... I nee to... get ith," he slurred. Karen's smile grew, his nonsensical words bringing a small spark of comfort. "You're dreaming about work," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. The nurse, Margaret, checked the monitors and nodded. "His vitals look good. He'll be fine," she assured. "Remember the first time you made me a Patty?" she asked, her voice soothing. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. "Ith... Ith was’at..." he mumbled. It wasn't often she heard him express his feelings so openly, especially not about her. "What was it, honey?" she prompted, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Youw... youwre the... the besht... the... besht..." his voice trailed off again into snores. Karen chuckled with affection. It was clear he was talking about her, despite the garbled speech. She leaned in closer. "I'm right here," she whispered. Plankton's sleep-talk grew, his grip on her hand tightening. "Pro-tec... the secret... chum... fwom... Plankton..." "You're safe," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "You don't have to worry about the recipe now." Plankton's slurred words continued. "Fwom... Plankton... ith... ith... my... my... hearth..." It was almost as if he was speaking to it, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep. "Your... your heart?" she repeated uncertainly, trying to make sense of his words. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his hand still clutching hers tightly. A faint moan escaped Plankton's lips, and his eye began to flutter open. His eye searched the room, unfocused and glazed. He blinked slowly, a look of confusion spreading across his face. The nurse stood by, monitoring, ready to intervene if needed. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "Hi, sweetie. It's all over now. You're in the recovery room." Plankton's eye searched hers, still clouded with sleep. "Wha... wha' happen'd?" he managed to ask. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen said softly. "You're ok now." Plankton's eye grew clearer as his mind slowly surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness. He blinked again, looking around the room. "Why... why awe youw smiling?" "You were talking in your sleep," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "It was just sweet." Plankton's eye searched hers. "Wha'did I shay?" "You said a lot of things," she replied, her smile lingering. "But the most important part was that you said I was the best." The corner of Plankton's mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. "Well, thath's twue." With Margaret's help, Karen managed to get Plankton into a more upright position. His head lolled slightly before he found his bearings, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "How do you feel?" Karen asked, her voice full of concern. "Woozy," Plankton mumbled. With Margaret's guidance, Karen helped Plankton to stand, his legs wobbly. He leaned heavily on her, the anesthesia still clouding his movements. She felt his weight and knew that he would need her support to navigate the short walk to the car. "Let's go slow," she said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-lidded with sleep. They shuffled along the hallway, each step a victory over his grogginess. As they approached the door leading to the parking lot, Plankton swayed. Karen tightened her grip, for his head lolled to the side, and she caught him. "Whoa, honey," she said. Plankton's legs buckled slightly, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. Karen steadied him, her arms wrapping around to keep him upright. His breathing was deep and even, eye fighting to stay open. "You can't sleep now," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "We're not even home yet." With Margaret's help, they made their way to the car, Karen's arm supporting Plankton's weight. "Let's get you buckled in," she said, guiding him to the passenger seat. Plankton complied, his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. With a gentle push, Karen secured the seatbelt across his chest. His head lolled back against the headrest, and for a moment, she thought he might fall back asleep, but managed to keep his eye open as she starts the engine. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's eye drifted shut. "We're almost home." Karen says as Plankton's head lolled back against the headrest. She took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg reassuringly. "You can sleep when we get there." Yet Plankton's snores filled the car, punctuating the silence. Karen couldn't help but look over at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. "Wake up, sweetie," Karen whispered, gently shaking Plankton. He stirred, his eye blinking open with difficulty. "We're home," she said. Plankton groaned. "Careful," she warned. They shuffled inside, Karen guiding him. The smell of home hit them, a mix of saltwater and the faint scent of cooking from the restaurant next door. "Come on, honey," she said, half-guiding, half-carrying him to their bedroom. Karen helped him lie downs. He let out a deep sigh. "Thathks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen settled Plankton into bed, his head resting on the soft pillows, his body limp and heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. She took his other hand and squeezed gently. As they lay there, she noticed a small pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the day dissipating. She reached for a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped the drool away. Plankton snuffled, his eye shooting open for a moment before closing again. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking his forehead. "You're safe. You can go back to sleep now." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and drool grew more insistent, a silent testament to his deep slumber. Karen grabbed another tissue, wiping the saliva that trickled down his chin, his snores rumbling. With each tissue, the intimacy grew, the act of caring for him in this vulnerable state somehow endearing. She felt a tenderness for him that was usually overshadowed by their daily squabbles and the relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty's secret recipe. As Plankton's snores grew softer, his grip on her hand loosened. Karen gently pulled her hand free and covered him with the blanket. She took a moment to gaze at his peaceful face. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and she found it surprisingly comforting. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, whispering, "I love you, even when you're drooling." Karen knew Plankton would be out for hours, so she decided to use the time to prepare a light meal for when he woke. She moved quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. She rummaged, looking for something soft that wouldn't irritate his sore mouth. In the fridge, she found a bowl of Plankton's favorite jellyfish jello, a treat she had made the night before knowing he wouldn't be able to eat much solid food. Then, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly, carefully making a few soft, fluffy sandwiches that she hoped would be easy for him to chew. Next, she grabbed a few of Plankton's favorite books from the living room. She placed them on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her as she listened to his rhythmic snores. Despite the stress of the day, she was grateful for the quiet moments like these.

⡤⡐⢦⠀⣀⠡⡀⢠⠰⣄⢀⡠⢀⠀⡔⢂⠐⢢⠔⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⢄⠳⣆⢦⠣⠄⣌⢃⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⡍⠩⡟⡄⠌⠀⠀⡖⢬⠘⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡊⠀⠀⠀⣀⢆⡀ ⢳⠉⠦⡁⢄⡃⠈⠤⠲⡌⢦⢱⠣⠘⣌⠦⡀⠈⠂⠀⠐⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡍⠀⣿⠞⢤⣣⢀⠸⠉⠀⠀⠀⠘⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠧⣾⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣄⣠⣆⠰⣈⠳ ⡷⣞⡆⠉⠶⠈⠀⠸⠁⠘⢆⠈⡡⢲⢬⣃⠐⡀⠀⠀⡔⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠑⠌⣘⠾⠛⣁⣠⠴⡀⠀⡤⡑⠈⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡧⣤⠀⠀⢦⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⡟⣷⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠋⠝⠂⠄⢫ ⣳⢽⣿⡣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠂⠀⠁⠈⠓⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⣹⠴⠊⣁⡴⠚⡱⢆⢎⡅⣒⠠⣁⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣷⡻⣷⣹⣿⣇⣘⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢯⠳⠍⡁⠀⠀⠰⢋⠀⠀⠈⠄⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣀⠴⠎⠁⠦⡐⣄⠸⡚⣜⢨⠷⡹⢆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⣿⢰⣸⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠸⣿⡿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣟⢫⡉⢻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢤⡀⠄⠂ ⡃⠡⠀⠡⠀⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⡑⠣⢎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡪⠙⢶⣘⠒⠀⠘⠘⣷⠸⣎⢧⢫⡑⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣹⡼⠁⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠾⠀⣹⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⡖⣠⠡ ⡙⠀⠀⢢⡁⠐⠠⢄⠀⠀⠠⢡⠄⡐⠀⠀⢌⠀⠀⢰⣦⣿⠃⠀⠐⠛⣶⢤⡈⠓⣦⠄⢀⣮⢳⡜⣎⠶⡡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢠⠟⠀⢀⠿⣻⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠛⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⡽⣒⠋ ⣅⠀⡰⣿⡬⠁⠄⢂⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⡬⠀⠀⠘⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠰⣏⡀⠙⠆⠀⠮⣄⡹⠓⠾⢬⣳⡁⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣷⠾⡦⣴⣦⠰⣿⣽⣟⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠈⠁⠠⠏⣼⣯⣿⣿⡟⠿⠋⠙⠙⠃⠋⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠩⠃⠀ ⣟⣲⣵⣉⠓⢦⡀⠀⠀⠣⠀⠀⠠⠐⣲⠈⠀⢠⠀⠈⢛⣧⠀⠀⠀⠐⣧⡉⠓⠴⠮⢦⡀⠙⠢⠤⡀⠘⢧⠑⠱⢠⠕⢄⡀⣸⣷⢰⣷⣾⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⣧⠻⣟⣧⠄⡄⢻⡧⠀⠀⠠⠄⢃⠠⣃⠄⠀⠄⠀⠀⠤⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠘⢿⢤⡀⠘⡄⠘⣇⡸⠃⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⠻ ⡧⢳⣾⣟⣯⠲⣁⠀⠰⢂⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⣁⠀⠀⠀⣿⠱⢯⠟⡓⠈⠀⠀⡀⠙⣖⠘⠀⠙⢧⣄⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣝ ⡗⣿⢿⣿⣷⢣⣕⣦⣄⡀⠉⠶⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠐⠂⠇⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠂⡀⠜⣠⠀⠉⢆⣘⣆⠀⠀⠨⣿⠂⠀⠀⢠⢰⣿⡿⢭⣛⠟⣯⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⣼⣿⡛⣤⠌⣜⢧⢫⢟⣷⣄⠈⢦⡀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢒⡐⠀⣳⡬⢙⡳⣄⠀⠉⢿⠃⠀⣠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠺⣿⣹⢎⡝⡮⢿⢚⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠜⣿⠷⣹⣿⠹⣚⢃⢎⣽⣹⢺⣦⡀⠳⡄⠈⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠠⡀⠉⢵⡪⢕⡈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠈⣏⢙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣾⢿⡁⠰⡾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣽⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⢪⡿⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠌⢁⣯⣿⣷⣱⡌⡞⡌⠶⡉⠣⠌⣵⣄⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠎⢤⡞⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⢀⣿⡀⢦⡽⣖⢦⡥⠌⢷⡀⠀⠘⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⠈⣿⡇⣾⣧⣴⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠑⠤⣦⣼⣿⠟⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⣼⢑⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠾⣿⣿⣟⡿⣘⠳⢈⡀⡁⢦⡜⢲⡉⠆⠀⠀⠀⠰⢦⣄⠈⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⣿⡿⣿⣧⡹⣮⡝⣌⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣦⣿⢇⣻⢯⣹⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⣏⢶⣿⡜⢰⢣⣌⣧⣛⡜⡣⠍⢠⠙⢢⠂⠀⠀⠈⢧⣟⡷⡄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡧⠿⢽⣧⢹⣿⣎⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠃⠘⠌⣳⣫⡇⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⣟⣯⣿⡿⣜⡧⣎⣳⣿⣞⡱⣜⢦⣏⢮⡟⠀⠀⠐⣄⠈⠑⡄⠀⠀⢸⣏⢿⣫⣵⣶⡶⣿⠟⣺⢖⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠴⢤⠚⡔⣯⠭⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⢀⣠⣔⣲⣒⣯⠥⠼⢛⡛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠄⣌⣿⢿⣿⣳⡽⣏⢿⣳⢏⣿⢾⡽⣎⠏⠄⠀⠀⠈⠤⣤⡀⠁⠀⠀⢸⡛⢻⠏⢁⡔⠮⠐⠋⠼⡉⢹⣾⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡒⠈⢠⠛⡜⢿⣸⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠈⠁⢎⡁⠠⠤⠴⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢻⡿⣿⢷⣷⣽⣾⣾⠋⠛⠺⠧⠙⠮⡘⠄⠀⠀⠀⣟⡼⣿⡆⠀⠀⢈⣧⠈⢦⣜⠤⠒⠀⡀⢈⢀⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⢊⠀⠀⠠⣝⢸⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡃⢴⣻⡷⠟⠉⠙⣿⠟⠠⡔⡠⢘⢣⡔⡠⢈⠀⠀⠀⣧⢻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⣾⡆⠘⣧⢢⠅⠀⢌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠁⡀⢰⡌⢳⡹⣗⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢦⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡀⠈⢿⣝⣀⣀⣰⣿⢢⣀⡖⣠⡡⣚⣽⣗⠮⠀⠀⢈⡿⣿⣷⣻⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣷⣎⠰⣌⣑⡀⢈⣷⡯⢿⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣡⢈⡇⢜⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡅⢚⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠿⡛⢻⣥⣳⠴⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠘⣍⢻⡉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡄⠈⢻⡵⠛⣿⠋⣡⣤⡿⢍⡞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠁⢣⣐⣸⢿⣾⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠆⣈⣆⡶⣴⡶⣖⠧⣈⢿⡁⣻⣯⣧⠳⣜⣺⡇⠀⠐⠈⢃⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣉⡀⠀⢳⡴⢋⣿⢙⠋⠀⠈⡄⡀⢤⡀⠀⡀⠀⢢⣜⡱⢎⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡃⠐⣯⢿⣧⣓⡼⣷⡞⣿⣟⢯⣻⣽⣿⣿⡜⠃⠀⠀⢀⣦⣉⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⢷⠀⠘⣿⢿⣹⣞⢿⡂⠘⣐⣉⢶⣬⣷⣅⡀⠱⣎⡷⢨⣿⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⠀⣹⢯⣾⡿⣼⢻⢿⡜⠿⡾⢱⠻⢍⡳⣝⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⣷⣦⡟⠀⠀⣿⣯⣻⡦⠀⠻⣧⣉⣜⣮⠟⢁⣀⣉⣈⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢀⡀⣿⢩⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣞⡿⡽⢿⣟⡿⣿ ⡄⢤⠱⣎⣶⣵⢮⢏⡚⡌⢧⡜⣥⢏⠶⣹⡛⡆⠀⠐⢫⢿⣿⢿⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣤⠤⠊⢹⣟⠫⢿⣿⢋⠉⣴⠈⠉⠛⠿⣽⢻⣼⡿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢘⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣛⣯⠽⡽⢞⣤⣭⣚ ⠁⠊⠛⣿⣿⣿⡎⣶⢁⠛⣠⠘⣠⢊⣷⢱⡜⠁⠀⢀⡇⠚⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣥⢀⡏⠀⣰⠊⠀⡉⣷⣬⠒⣯⣷⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⢹⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⠈⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣯ ⡅⡈⢾⣿⣿⣿⠌⠉⢂⠢⠄⡚⠵⣚⢤⠳⡅⠀⠀⣸⠇⣠⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⢽⡏⠋⢀⡎⢠⠄⠁⢒⠈⠻⢿⣶⣜⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⣿⣯⢻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⡿⣟⣿⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡆⠐⣧⣟⣾⣽⡂⠀⠀⢀⠘⡀⢒⠠⢎⡱⠁⠀⠐⣿⡧⠟⣣⠜⠃⠀⠀⠀⢾⣷⢀⣾⣷⣿⡇⠀⠸⣦⡀⠈⠹⣿⣧⠀⢀⠀⠀⡄⢾⣯⣿⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡹⣼⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠘⣸⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣼⣿⣛⡻⢿⣶⣶⣯⣷⢏ ⠇⠐⣌⡟⡼⢏⠡⠐⠎⠐⠀⠜⠌⠣⠀⡔⠃⠀⠘⠛⠁⢸⣷⣻⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⢸⣿⣯⣿⣦⣶⠇⠘⠿⠶⠐⡀⠛⡀⠈⠀⠀⠈⣼⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⡽⢿⣟⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣧⣟⣿⣿⣽⣳ ⡂⠀⡼⡃⠜⡃⠦⢉⠂⠀⢂⠘⠨⣑⢣⠐⠀⠀⠀⠿⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠁⠀⠀⢠⠄⠀⠈⣰⡘⣳⣠⡴⠞⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣻⡽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣇⠀⢸⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⡽⣯⡿⣯ ⠅⠰⣹⠑⡈⠔⡡⢠⠸⡔⢂⠦⣱⢈⢧⣂⡀⠀⠀⠐⢠⣿⣿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣠⢁⣴⣌⠰⡡⠭⡙⡿⠝⢢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡾⣽⣏⣷⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡟⢱⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⠲ ⠀⢠⡓⡜⣌⢒⡡⢃⠏⡄⢃⠎⣵⢯⡾⣽⡀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠟⠀⢩⠆⠀⠀⠀⣰⢿⡋⣝⡓⠀⣋⠑⣣⠞⠛⠭⢩⠱⢃⣬⢥⠞⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡽⣾⡹⢧⣋ ⠀⢲⡳⣘⣤⢣⢚⡭⣚⠴⡡⢞⡬⣻⣼⡽⡁⠀⠀⠎⠷⡘⠄⡁⡆⠀⠀⣸⢇⣿⡜⠋⢀⠞⡵⡟⢁⡤⠏⢀⡦⣟⠿⠒⣫⢾⢿⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣩⡉⠀⠑⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣽⣿⣿⡿⣽⢯⣛⣷⢻⠇⡬ ⠀⡹⡓⠴⡈⠁⢿⣽⡧⢯⣑⠈⢷⣻⣝⡳⠃⠀⠀⢨⢧⣍⣦⣰⣡⠀⠀⠟⠘⣿⢘⣀⢸⣾⡙⢋⣉⣄⣴⠿⣩⠅⣊⠝⡪⣝⢮⣳⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡟⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣛⡿⣟⣿⣿⣹⢏⣷⢻⣎⢏⡚⡔ ⣤⢷⣯⣷⣹⣼⣿⣿⡿⣤⢎⣤⣆⣦⢻⡕⠀⠀⠀⢨⢿⡌⣳⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣢⢌⠃⠀⣀⣇⣿⢋⣦⣝⡦⣱⣈⢆⣵⣫⣾⣽⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣏⣟⢿⣻⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣾⣳⣭⣗⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⡽⣟⣯⣟⣻⣿⣾⣝⣮⣳⣻⣮⢿⡭⣆⠵⢈

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii (Autistic author) His eye took a moment to focus on her, and when it did, she saw a flicker of confusion, followed by a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" he repeated, his voice still faint. "Yes, it's me, Plankton. You're ok." But his gaze remained distant, his focus unsteady. "Where...where are we?" "We're at the hospital, sweetheart," Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. "You had an accident." The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, and he tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. "What kind of accident?" His voice was still weak, but there was an urgency to his words that hadn't been there before. Karen took a deep breath, her grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan." The words tasted bitter but she had to tell him the truth. Plankton's eye widened slightly, and she watched as the puzzle pieces of the situation slowly clicked into place in his mind. "Krabby Patty," he murmured, his voice distant. "Yes, Plankton, you were trying to get the recipe again," Karen whispered, aching at the memory. "But it's over now. You need to rest." His eye searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of his old self, the cunning and ambitious man she had married. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a vacant stare. "Don't... don't remember," he mumbled, his antennas drooping. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who schemed with a glint in his eye and a plan in his pocket. "It's ok, Plankton," she soothed, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you remember me?" Plankton's gaze remained steady for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. But the spark of recognition was tinged with confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure how he knew her. Karen's felt like breaking into a million tiny pieces. But she knew she had to stay strong. For Plankton. For them. "You don't remember what happened, do you?" she asked gently. "What else do you remember?" Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, his eye searching hers. "Don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's chest tightened as she held back a sob. "It's ok," she reassured him, her voice shaky. "Do you remember your name?" she asked, her voice hopeful. He blinked slowly, his gaze fading in and out of focus, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "Sheldon... Plankton?" The sound of his voice saying his own name brought a small smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's right," she said, her voice filled with relief. "Do you remember where we live?" she continued, her tone gentle. Plankton's eye searched the ceiling of the hospital room, as if the answer was written there. "The Chum Bucket," he murmured, his voice unsure. Karen nodded, encouraged by his response. "Good, good," she said, smiling weakly. "What about our friends?" Again, the confusion clouded his gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, Sandy...?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice soft. "Do you remember them?" Plankton's expression grew more distressed, his antennas drooping. "Square...SpongeBob. And a squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Karen nodded, brimming with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're friends." Plankton's antennas twitched as he processed the information, his brow furrowing with the effort. "Friends," he repeated, the word sounding foreign. Karen could see the gears turning in his tiny head, his brain desperately trying to make connections to his past. "Do you remember anything about your life before the accident?" Karen asked, her voice trembling with anticipation. Plankton's eye searched hers, uncertain. "Life...before?" Her heart sank. "You know, our adventures, our home, our love?" He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Love?" The word was barely a whisper. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice cracking. "We love each other. We've been married for a long time, and we've had so many adventures together." She paused, willing the words to resonate with him, to ignite a spark of memory. "Do you remember any of that?" Plankton's gaze remained vacant for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted slightly, a glimmer of something familiar flickering in his eye. "Karen Plankton computer wife." "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice thick with emotion. "Does that mean something to you?" she asked, her heart in her throat. He nodded slowly, his antennas waving slightly. "Computer wife," he murmured again, his voice gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm your wife." She leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Do you remember anything about us?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Wife," he said slowly, his voice a faint echo of the man she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married July 31, 1999." That was their wedding day, a date they had celebrated every year since. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choking. "We got married on July 31, 1999." The hospital room felt thick with silence as she waited for his next words. Plankton's eye searched the room, his antennas twitching as he tried to piece together the shards of his past. "Plankton, can you tell me about yourself?" Karen asked, her voice gentle. "What do you like to do?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Invent," he said, his voice still weak but with a hint of pride. "Science?" The words came out as a question, as if he wasn't quite sure of his own identity. "Yes," Karen said, her voice brightening slightly. "You're a genius inventor. You've made so many wonderful things." She paused, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eye. "Do you remember any of your inventions?" Plankton's antennas waved in the air, as if searching for the memories that remained elusive. "Inventions," he murmured, his single eye searching the ceiling. "Gadgets...machines." "That's right," Karen encouraged, squeezing his hand. "You've created so many amazing machines. Can you describe one of them?" He blinked, his antennas stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice picking up a bit. "It makes...makes food for fishies." Karen's smile grew despite the pain. The Chum Dispenser 3000 was one of his earlier inventions, a failed attempt to lure customers to their restaurant, but it was a testament to his ingenuity. "That's wonderful, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "How about something more recent?" she prompted, eager to see how much of their shared history remained with him. Plankton's antennas twitched as his brain worked overtime. "Um... the Incredibubble," he said, his voice picking up speed as he talked. "It's a bubble that can shrink things down to microscopic size." Karen felt a jolt of excitement. "That's right!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You used it to get to find a secret plan." Plankton's gaze remained distant, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Computer... plan?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice shaking. "We've had so many adventures together, Plankton. We've faced so much together." He nodded, his antennas twitching slightly. "Together," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Do you remember any of those adventures?" Karen asked, her voice trembling. "Adventures?" Plankton's eye flickered, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. "With Karen... wife?" "Yes, with me. We've traveled the ocean, faced so many challenges together." The doctor came in. "You can go home now," he said. Karen nodded, never leaving Plankton's face. She had spoken to the doctor about his condition, about the autism, but she still wasn't sure how to process it all. How would their life change now? "Come on, Plankton," she said, helping him sit up gently. "Let's get you home." She buckles him into his side of the car, his newfound passivity making the usual struggle unnecessary. The engine of the tiny vehicle roars to life, and Karen guides them out of the hospital parking lot. The ride back to the Chum Bucket is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine and the occasional splash from the waves outside. Karen keeps glancing at Plankton, his antennas listless as he stares out the window. His mind seems to be somewhere else, lost in a world of his own making. When they arrive, she helps Plankton out of the car and supports him as they make their way to the door. The neon sign flickers in the gloom, casting erratic shadows across the sand. The once bustling environment now feels eerie and desolate. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to make this place feel like home again for Plankton.